Playing With Fire
by W. A. Ravensdale
Summary: An emotionally jaded con-woman with a complicated past. A charming FBI agent with little patience for the corrupted ones. Tempers fly and emotions run high as the two become unexpected partners and must now work side-by-side. Will they ever be willing to trust each other, and sacrifice their own beliefs for the sake of an alliance? AU/AH
1. Maybe It's Time

**PLAYING WITH FIRE**

_**Prologue: Maybe It's Time **_

_by W. A. Ravensdale_

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**_Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Diaries or any of its characters._**

A special thank you goes to **_RunningInAir_ **and **_SapphireKisses_ **for their amazing beta work!

My twitter: **_WARavensdale_**

* * *

Peace.

She felt completely at peace as the calmness of the deep, dark sea surrounded her. Silence enveloped her, and she pleasantly welcomed it. Her eyes fluttered open.

As she smoothly floated underwater, the surroundings bewitched her, and all she could do was let her blurry gaze observe them in awe. Beneath her danced the bottomless darkness – trying to lure her in like a beautiful siren. It was persuading her with its simplicity and mystery. She felt vulnerable but at the same time curiously alive and free.

Why was it that the dark always managed to suck her in? To tempt her and dominate her so easily, when the light struggled and fought for her attention?

And even though the blackness excited and enthralled her, she couldn't help but shudder at the secrecy and complexity of the intimidating void. It mocked her, making her feel like it knew a fascinating secret which she would never grasp – like it was better and much… _more_ than her. It was simultaneously simple and confusing, easy to understand yet tangled.

The thoughts swirled in her head, and before she could think about it further, her eyes skipped to the brighter, friendlier, crystal-blue water which embraced her with its purity and honesty. Even though her vision was blurred and her eyes were starting to throb, she could make out the rays of sunlight penetrating the water level above her. The light danced in the water as various different colors played around her, but the allure of the darkness beneath soon won over, and she disappeared further into the unknown.

It was so perplexing and frightening – she never knew what was lurking in the shadows. Deep down, she was at the mercy of the cold water and complete darkness. Danger and adventure always charmed her and captivated her – that was the main reason why she kept being who she was, kept doing what she did.

She absolutely hated dull and uneventful days; she believed life was to be lived to the fullest – she just believed truly living meant doing and dealing with things that were out of your comfort zone. For her, life was all about pushing her limits and achieving the impossible.

A few bubbles escaped her mouth when she sank deeper, and the pressure in her ears magnified. She knew it was time to turn around and get some air in her system, but she stubbornly willed herself to go just a little lower. Her lungs burned from the lack of oxygen, and adrenaline rushed through her body at the sensational feeling of numbness.

Time stopped as she weightlessly floated in the cool water. All of her worries just vanished, and an indescribable serenity washed over her. The world could wait – now was just about her. There weren't many places or people that could make her feel as peaceful and calm as the deep sea did, and she wasn't ready to let go of that feeling just yet.

The equanimity unfortunately only lasted a few seconds before the panic took over, and her body instinctively moved towards the light, desperately trying to hold on just a bit longer.

Her body jerked out of the water, and she drew in a long, devastating breath. The water gracefully slid down her face, and her heart pounded furiously in her chest. The feeling was twistedly euphoric.

Reality came crushing around her the moment she opened her eyes, and with a sly smile, her gaze fell onto the distant, luxurious yacht. It was time to leave the glamorous Mediterranean Sea behind.

It was time to go home.

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**_Feedback is love!_**


	2. The Sky is the Limit

**PLAYING WITH FIRE**

_**Chapter 1: The Sky is the Limit**_

_by W. A. Ravensdale_

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I just wanted to warn you all that I absolutely adore the unique friendship that Elena and Elijah have going on in the show. Therefore, the story will revolve around my idea of their fucked up friendship as well. I hope you don't mind. If you have any questions feel free to ask. I understand there are/will be some confusing and questioning parts about the past but it will all get cleared up as we go along. Unfortunately for the flash-back lovers, there will be none of those. I personally don't like them and prefer telling the story my way. Thank you for reading, and be kind and leave a review. I love hearing what you all think! :D

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Diaries or any of its characters._**

A special thank you goes to**_RunningInAir_** for her help and amazing beta skills.******  
**

My twitter: **_WARavensdale_**

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"_Remembering is easy. It's forgetting that's hard." _

― Brodi Ashton, Everneath

* * *

September 15th, 2011

Elena Gilbert may have enjoyed the bright sun and cool water of the Mediterranean Sea, but New York was still the place where all the fun, danger, and adventure ensued. Although she travelled a lot, and had been to many beautiful and enchanting places, she always looked forward to coming home and creating some necessary havoc, breaking a few rules, and pissing off a certain FBI agent.

After leaving their fancy yacht in good care with some of Elena's trustworthy acquaintances, she and her best friend/partner in crime, Caroline Forbes, boarded onto a plane, occupying two seats of the first class. Their life style and the enormous amount of money they _earned_ by simply being charming, skilled, genuinely smart, and extremely cunning, provided them the luxury to live and travel like the classy and sophisticated ladies they were.

The flight from Fiumicino, Rome to Gatwick, London was relatively short and flew by quickly as Elena and Caroline distracted themselves with fascinatingly-small alcohol bottles and in-flight cocktails. The pair was one of the first to exit the plane where a small airport-shuttle was already waiting for the first-class passengers. The drive to the airport was quick and uneventful as expected. Once they made it inside the air-conditioned building, they patiently waited for their luggage to arrive. As privileged as they were, they didn't need to wait long before spotting their suitcases on the luggage carousel.

Chipper as always, Caroline yanked her two girly-pink suitcases from the carousel and loaded them on the metal airport cart. A few seconds later, Elena's black and gold luggage made its way to where she was standing and, with hardly any effort, she lifted it off the tape and strolled her way towards the bubbly blonde.

They spent the next three hours wandering around the airport, shopping for unnecessary junk, fashion magazines, and expensive perfumes. Tired, the pair sat down for a proper lunch at one of the airport's restaurants and quietly discussed their next move while enjoying the delicious pizzas and a Caesar salad.

After paying, and leaving a generous tip for the handsome waiter, Caroline and Elena slowly made their way to the check-in line and decided they may as well go through – there was not much to do outside anyways. Still, having a little more than an hour before their next flight, they nestled into the uncomfortable chairs and pulled their reading materials out of their bags.

With her nose buried into the previously-bought fashion magazine, Caroline interestedly lost herself in the overrated world of fashion, while Elena preferred to read more intellectual books; she decided to let Oscar Wilde consume her with his intelligence and intriguing perspective on life.

* * *

Soon after they boarded the second plane, Elena put her earphones in, snuggled against the window in the comfortable seat, and fell asleep to Frank Sinatra's bewitching voice. Needless to say, she didn't get much sleep with Caroline constantly giggling to something a handsome guy in front of her was saying. Even the earphones weren't loud enough to cover up her high-pitched voice. Knowing her friend too well, she soon gave up on sleeping altogether and ordered a drink instead.

A few drinks and a dinner later, Caroline shamelessly informed Elena she was joining the Mile High Club and disappeared into the restroom with the 'hottie' whom she had been talking to for most of their flight. The brunette couldn't help but laugh at her friend's insatiable desire for sex as the moans of pleasure echoed through the plane, painting the passengers around her red.

A chuckle escaped her lips when she spotted more than a few people shooting her disapproving looks, thinking she actually cared what they thought. Why were they judging her anyway? It wasn't like she was the one fucking a stranger in the toilet. Shrugging carelessly, Elena moved her attention to the window, observing the beautiful, blood-red sky. With the sun falling in the sea and coloring the clouds, Elena couldn't help but remember all the times she used to sneak on the roof and watch the sun set when she was just a little girl. Of course, everything was different back then, and a sad smile tugged on her lips at the bittersweet memories.

"Man, that guy knows how to pleasure a woman! The things he can do with his tongue, Elena," Caroline enthusiastically cried out as she plopped down next to her friend with a satisfied half-smile playing on her face.

"That good, huh?" Elena's lips turned into a knowing smirk as she took in the blonde's appearance. Her white, button-down shirt was wrinkled slightly with a few buttons undone and her curly, blond hair screamed sex. A light blush tinted her cheeks, and her eyes sparked mischievously – she was clearly sated... at least for now.

"Oh, yeah," Caroline nodded, making them both chuckle.

After that, they feel into a comfortable silence, each lost in their thoughts. That was the beauty of knowing someone as long as they knew each other – they didn't need words to express how they felt or prevent the awkwardness. Because being silent didn't necessary mean there was nothing to talk about; it meant feeling comfortable enough in someone's presence to just think about everything, knowing you wouldn't be judged.

But silence, no matter how comfortable it was, had one big downside. After a while, her mind wandered to the darker part of her heart – finding those cruel, painful memories she thought were long forgotten. People often thought that the most damaging memories were the bad, sad ones, but Elena knew better. In reality, it was the bittersweet memories that hurt the most – like aching, brutal creatures laughing at you, mocking you, and reminding you of what you had, what you had lost and what you could never get back.

And just like that, her mood darkened. No longer was the small smile playing on her lips, no longer did her eyes shine as brightly as they did minutes ago – no longer did the dark soothe her. She knew she was being irrational, the moments she remembered were long gone and it didn't do her any good to think about them, but no matter how much she tried to think about something else, her thoughts always drifted back to when she had something worth fighting for…even though she lost that fight in the end.

She knew memories could be cruelly painful, she knew that too well. But honestly, the throbbing pain in her heart as she remembered always surprised her. It seemed like it magnified with each thought. Because no matter how much suffering and heart-ache those memories brought her, she never wanted to let them go – even though they were destroying her.

What hurt the most was that the memories began to fade away, slowly and slightly but still fading. And that frightened her; it made her feel somehow guilty and shameful because they meant so much to her, and she felt like she was betraying herself, like her mind was betraying her by forgetting.

"You okay?" Caroline's voice pulled the brunette out of her thoughts, startling her.

"Huh?" She blinked confused. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just had a bit too much to drink," she brushed it off, knowing there was nothing either one of them could do at the moment. If she was to tell her best friend what she was thinking about, Caroline would make her talk about it, and it would do neither of them any good.

"Alright then, I'm going to take a nap," the bubbly blonde informed Elena, who nodded in relief – partly because she let go of the subject for now and partly because with Caroline quiet, she could catch some sleep as well.

* * *

"Home, sweet home," Caroline beamed, drawing Elena from her nap.

Disoriented, the brunette looked around and realized they had landed at the JFK airport. Stretching her arms and legs, she disposed of a blanket – which Caroline must have wrapped her in since she didn't remember having it near when she fell asleep – and shot her friend a satisfied smile.

She may still be tired and jet lagged, but they finally got home after five relaxing months spent at their yacht in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea, and it felt amazing. Unlike when they landed in London, the airport-shuttle took forever to arrive to the plane, even though they were the first to leave the jet. The wait for the suitcases was just as long, and Caroline kept complaining about how much her legs hurt, making Elena's head throb.

It felt like hours before they were finally able to make their way towards Caroline's car in the parking lot. Soon, they spotted her white Ferrari Enzo and loaded their suitcases in the trunk before sinking into the overly-comfortable leather and driving off into the night. The streets weren't as packed as they usually were for which the pair was thankful as it helped them get to their apartment much sooner than normal.

As soon as the elevator doors to their penthouse opened, the familiar smell overwhelmed them, and the pair actually felt like crying. It felt so good to be home again.

Their penthouse was spacious, very spacious. It had two floors, with glassed walls overlooking the fabulous Manhattan on the east side. There were four bedrooms – Caroline's, Elena's and two guest bedrooms – each with its own bathroom and a walk-in closet. The kitchen – which wasn't really used frequently – was situated in the west side of the apartment next to a modern, but classy, living room with a high ceiling and an elegant, crystal chandelier. The furniture was mostly golden and white, with a few pink accessories here and there.

A private, small gym with a sauna and Jacuzzi was near the master bedrooms on the second floor since both women loved to spend their free time working out and relaxing in the heat. A smaller room was transformed into the newest safe model as Elena, as well as Caroline, both had many, many secrets and very valuable belongings to save. So far, there had been no attempts at robbery, but one could never be too sure.

The two best friends decided they would let the maid unpack their suitcases in the morning due to the early hour. After saying goodnight, the pair disappeared into their bedrooms, both anxious to get some sleep.

The sight of her own bed made Elena's muscles beg to finally lie down, but she hoped to take a shower first, wanting to go to bed fresh and clean. It didn't take long before she was wrapped into an oversized, fluffy, black towel, brushing her teeth. With the last bit of energy, she pulled her hair into a messy bun and discarded the towel before sliding underneath the silk and finally closing her eyes.

It may have been odd for her to sleep naked, and if anyone else besides Caroline was to live with her she wouldn't go to sleep so exposed, but she absolutely loved the feeling of the smooth, cold silk against her bare skin. It was a habit she developed when she bought herself her first silky bed sheets, and it had been like that ever since. And the guys – and girls – who, on rare occasions, accompanied her in her bed never had any complaints either.

Sinking deeper into the king sized bed, her mind cleared up and sleep soon took over, sending her into a beautiful world of imagination and ignorance.

* * *

The noise of a soft, harmonic melody woke Caroline up in the early morning hours. Groaning loudly, her eyes fell on the bright, green numbers of the alarm clock, and a slight frown tinted her forehead. Utterly confused, she sat up in her king-sized bed, swinging her legs over the edge. It was just a little past five, and three hours of sleep was not even nearly enough – she needed her beauty sleep!

Half asleep, she managed to wrap herself in her silky pink robe and drag her lifeless body down the hall. It took her some time to figure out where the music was coming from, and soon she was just outside their medium-sized sauna.

When she spotted Elena leaning against the hot wood with her eyes closed, sweat dripping off her body, she thought her friend had finally lost it. Billie Holiday's _I'll Be Seeing You_ soothingly travelled through the air and she wasn't sure if the brunette was even fully awake.

Worried, Caroline gently tapped with her fingers against the glass door. The noise startled Elena, and her heartbeat increased slightly. Her eyes slowly opened, and when her gaze settled on her usually cheerful friend, she realized she must have been there longer than she thought. With some difficulty, she got up and stepped out onto the cold, white tiles, and quickly let the water wash away the sweat. When she was done, she shot the blonde a grateful smile as the latter handed her a towel with a comforting smile on her lips. Her muscles felt like they were made of pudding, and her head was spinning from the heat.

"What's up with you? What are you doing up already?" Caroline stressed as she followed her friend out of the room.

"I had a bad dream and couldn't fall back asleep," Elena shrugged, hoping the blonde would drop it since she really didn't have the energy to argue with her.

"Oh, want to talk about it?" Her worried friend probed, leaning against the doorframe to Elena's room.

"Not really. Go back to sleep, Care," The brunette weakly let out, searching her closet for some fresh lingerie. Elena could see her friend was still tired, and she couldn't blame her. She felt guilty for waking her up.

Pulling out a lacy, red pair of panties and a bra, she turned around to find Caroline watching her carefully with an uneasy expression. "Are you sure?" The frowning friend was clearly not convinced.

"Yeah, it was just a nightmare, Caroline." Except it wasn't. "I don't need you to shoo the boogieman away," a forced laugh escaped her when she began pulling her underwear on.

"I'm really sorry I woke you up, I honestly didn't think my music was so loud," Elena let out apologetically, and slid on her bra.

"Don't worry," the blonde assured. "If you need to talk, you know where to find me." Even with being a natural blonde, Caroline wasn't as stupid as people often thought, and she could clearly see something was bugging her best friend. But she knew Elena, and she knew pushing her would only result in her blocking the blonde out completely – Elena would come to her when she was ready, of that, Caroline was sure.

"Okay. Now go back to sleep; you're grumpy when you don't get enough sleep." Elena teased, making the spirited blonde gasp.

"Am not!" She shrieked, glaring daggers at her friend.

"Goodnight, Caroline." With a wave of her hand, she dismissed her best friend and walked back into her closet. She slid on a pair of white, denim shorts and a baggy, gold, sleeveless shirt. When she came back to her room, the blonde was gone.

The forced smile died on her lips, and she let out a discouraged sigh. Murmuring something about not wanting to fall asleep again, she pulled on her white fedora hat and sunglasses – something that became very necessary when she went out in broad sunlight, especially in the Big Apple – and left the building.

"Good morning, Miss Gilbert." The overly-friendly night guard greeted her warmly. Tom was a middle-aged, dark-skinned man with a heart the size of the moon. He knew what Caroline and Elena did for a living, yet he never judged them or sold them out – even though Elena had a very expensive price on her head. He sincerely believed they weren't bad women at heart, and many would tell him he was delusional and naïve, but Elena knew better – he was just a good man.

"Morning, Tom." Her bitter mood immediately brightened; she just couldn't sulk when he was so nice.

"On your way to break any hearts today, Miss?" A bright smile played on his lips as he watched the young woman spin around and throw him a devilish smirk.

"I don't know yet, depends on my mood,"

* * *

As she sat in a coffee shop a few blocks away from their apartment with a bagel in her hand, Elena couldn't help but miss the Mediterranean Sea and their little yacht. It was nice to be home, that went without saying, but her heart still ached for the bottomless sea, crushing waves, and enchanting islands. She'd been to much more exquisite and exotic places before, but something about the simplicity surrounding the Mediterranean was so imperfectly beautiful it took her breath away. She vowed to herself she'd go back someday soon.

Munching on her bagel and sipping her second coffee that morning, Elena picked up today's newspaper, which someone conveniently left on her table. She quickly scanned trough the paper, searching for her or Caroline's picture, but couldn't find anything pointing at them. She was sure the FBI was already alerted of their – or more specifically, her – presence in New York. At an airport as big as the one they landed on, some security camera was bound to snap a picture of her. It surprised her they didn't report it to the media though.

A satisfied smirk colored her face as she thought of Agent Salvatore and how restless he must be right now. He probably didn't even go to bed out of anxiety. Maybe coming back wasn't so bad – she missed the fierce Agent and his uncanny ability to always miss her just by a second. It was so much fun watching him get worked up from a distance – he was furious every time she escaped him right under his nose. She thought he was sexy when he was angry.

Delighted, she finished her breakfast, leaving a tremendous tip for the nice, exhausted-looking waitress, and left the shop with a white, paper bag in her hand. She knew Caroline would appreciate if she had breakfast already waiting for her when she woke up.

It was already around seven o'clock when Elena made it back to their apartment building. Tom's shift was over and it was now Finn's turn. She didn't like Finn too much – he gave her the creeps. Averting her gaze from the unpleasant guard, she moved to the elevator and patiently waited for it to arrive to her penthouse.

She left the bag on the kitchen island and, knowing Caroline won't be up for a while, decided to hit the gym. Changing her clothes quickly, she grabbed a glassed bottle of cold water from the fridge and walked to their private gym. She pressed play on her iPod, and the quick beat of Avicii's _Wake Me Up_ blasted through her earphones. Satisfied, she began her workout.

* * *

Drops of sweat were sliding down her forehead once she finally managed to slow her pace. She was breathing heavily, and her heart was threatening to burst out of her chest. Yet she felt amazing. There was something unusually satisfying in blowing off some steam in the empty gym.

Her mind might have been pleased with the workout – her body, however, wasn't as delighted. That short hour of sleep she got did nothing good to her, and she knew she shouldn't push herself so much, especially since she never knew when the danger of being caught might present itself. She might have to grab the already-prepared emergency bag right now and run to the safe haven – she shouldn't be so reckless.

Sighing, she pulled her earphones out and exited the gym. She was in need of a cold shower and sleep, no matter how much she didn't want to close her eyes again. Taking her time under the cold spray of her rain shower, she washed her head and body while murmuring a soft melody of Snow Patrol's _New York _under her breath. Nearly half an hour later, she stepped out of the walk-in shower and dried her hair with a towel.

When she entered her bedroom, tying her hair in a loose bun, she noticed it was a few minutes past nine already. With a loud sigh, she decided to crawl under the sheets, pretty sure she was going to regret sleeping with wet hair later. But she just couldn't make herself care at the moment, and she definitely didn't have the energy to dry it with the hair dryer.

Knowing she wouldn't be able to fall asleep without some…encouragment, she opened the top drawer on her nightstand and swallowed down two of the sleeping pills she hasn't used in a while. She laid back and waited, hoping the dark figure would leave her alone.

* * *

When Elena woke up again, she was completely and utterly lost. She had no idea where she was, what time it was, or why her hair was wet. The alarm clock on her left flashed five thirty-two in the afternoon, and a deep frown of confusion slowly crept onto her forehead. Why was she sleeping through the day again?

The uncertain expression quickly changed into a very unpleasant one as she remembered the dreams she had in the morning. Thankfully, the gruesome man – no, monster – left her alone this time. She hated the fact that he – even in her fucking dreams – made her feel so vulnerable, afraid, and alone.

It was just another reminder of how, in the end, the only person she could count on was herself. People didn't care about her problems, her traumas, and her fears. Except maybe Caroline, but even she had a life of her own, and Elena respected that.

Loosening her now-dry bun, she slid out of her comfortable bed and sleepily made her way into the bathroom. She was a mess; her hair was a complete disaster, there were faint, blue bags under her eyes, and the right side of her face was slightly wrinkled from lying in the same position too long. Since she really didn't feel like taking a shower again, she simply brushed her hair – which took her a few minutes considering the state it was in – and brushed her teeth.

When she finally emerged out of her bedroom, she heard water running and someone making a mess in the kitchen. Puzzled, she carefully walked towards the sound. Her eyes widened almost comically. Caroline was preparing… _something_, and it looked like even she had no idea what exactly it was.

Was Caroline cooking?

"Caroline?" Elena chuckled, her mood already lighter.

The blonde spun around with a spatula in one hand and eggs in the other one, nearly sending the pan flying in the process. "Elena!" She cried out distractedly, making Elena giggle.

"What are you doing, Care?" She chuckled, sitting down on one of the kitchen stools.

"Huh?" The blonde blinked confused. Elena cocked her eyebrow and looked at the spatula and eggs in her hands, and Caroline's eyes followed. "Oh, that!" She let out a shaky laugh and turned back towards the pan. "Hmm, I'm making dinner. We're having eggs and bacon today!" The blonde announced, getting back to work. Something was up with her.

"Do you know _how_ to make eggs and bacon?" Elena couldn't help but ask. Their kitchen was big, very spacey and modern, but neither one of them spent much time in it.

Caroline, coming from a ridiculously rich family, always had servants and cooks to prepare her food, so she never actually needed to learn how to cook. Elena, on the other hand, knew how to cook and bake. She was fairly good at it as well. But she hated cooking; she despised it and very rarely entered the kitchen, when she wasn't robbing the fridge, that was. The brunette still knew how to make the basic meals – she still remembered it from when she had no choice but to prepare them.

"Pft, of course I can," the blonde shrugged off and glared at Elena's knowing smile. "How hard can it be?" Caroline asked herself so quietly, Elena almost didn't hear.

* * *

She couldn't.

In the end, the pair ordered Chinese and retreated from the dirty kitchen to sit on the cozy couch. Caroline burned their dinner. Not only that, she also ruined the pan and melted the plastic spatula, and Elena banned her from the kitchen until further notice.

"It wasn't _that_ bad, was it?" The nervous blonde probed, devouring her meal.

An annoyed look from her friend was all it took to shut her up. "What's up with you, anyway? You _never_ cook and you are most certainly _never_ nervous!" Elena exclaimed. This had been bugging her since she entered the kitchen, and even though she tried not to push Caroline, she couldn't help herself.

"Klaus is in town…" she murmured quietly, averting her eyes. The brunette's eyes widened.

"What?" She asked in disbelief.

"I went for a run earlier and bumped into him around the corner," her voice was unusually low and shaky.

"Wow, this is…" _Shocking? Unbelievable? Excellent? Catastrophic?_ Elena didn't even know how to complete the sentence. It was too much and she couldn't think straight.

"I know." Caroline cut her off before she could properly finish.

Her best friend and Klaus shared a history – actually, that was an understatement – which left them both broken, desperate, and grieving. Elena knew how much her friend loved Klaus and even though she wasn't as close to him as she was to his brother, Elena knew how much he loved her too. Caroline and Klaus were best friends even before Elena moved to Mystic Falls to live with her uncle.

But they weren't just best friends; they were so much more – friends, lovers, even soul mates if you will. There was so much unresolved and unspoken between the pair. So much guilt, judgment, and sorrow. When Elena and Caroline fled from that God-forsaken place, the blonde truly believed it was the best for all of them. She was running away, but they both were, really – Caroline running away from her past, from Klaus and her destruction, and Elena running away from her abusive uncle, her pathetic life, and the pain she felt every time her heart reached out to the only person who could make her feel less broken again.

"Is he…" she started, but the lump in her throat made it nearly impossible to speak. Caroline's blue eyes locked with her brown orbs and she swallowed. "Is he alone?" The words came out wrong, quiet and alien, making Elena shake with anxiety. She was afraid of what the answer may be.

The blonde observed her friend for a long minute before finally opening her mouth. "Do you want him to be?" Her words were gentle and soothing. There was no judgment or disapproval behind them, just genuine curiosity and maybe even a bit of sympathy.

"Caroline…" Elena pleaded, finally letting her gaze fall on her plate again. She wasn't sure what she was begging for – did she want her to finally answer the question, or was she desperately waiting for the right answer, whichever that was? Suddenly she wasn't feeling so good anymore.

"No, Elena, he's not alone." Cruel silence downed on them and Elena's eyes snapped back to meet Caroline's regretful ones. Her hand fell to her mouth as she bolted towards the toilet.

* * *

**_Feedback is love!_**


	3. After All This Time

**PLAYING WITH FIRE**

_**Chapter 2: After All This Time**_

_by W. A. Ravensdale_

* * *

First of all, I'm truly sorry for not updating last weekend - my beta was extremely busy and couldn't get the chapter back to me before yesterday evening! There isn't really much to say about this chapter. You'll have to read it and decide for yourself if you like it or not. If you do, please leave me a review!

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Diaries or any of its characters._**

A big, fat thank you goes to **_RunningInAir_ **for making this chapter readable!

My twitter: **_WARavensdale_**

* * *

_"Betrayal is the only truth that sticks."_

― Arthur Miller

* * *

"You fucking bastard!" Elena screamed in disbelief to the man across the room. "You set me up!" Her voice cracked a bit and tears welled in her eyes, but she wouldn't let them fall. Not yet, anyway.

His eyes pleaded with her, but she couldn't even look at him anymore. She couldn't believe she fell for it again. _Fucking idiot!_

"Fuck you!" She spat out when she saw him step towards her. His mouth opened, and it looked like he was about to say something, but changed his mind and averted his eyes. A bitter laugh escaped Elena when she felt strong, muscular arms pull her away.

Her wrists hurt where the metal handcuffs dug painfully into her skin and Agent Salvatore's grip on her forearm was bound to leave some marks, but she didn't care. All she could think about was what an idiot she'd become. She was one of the smartest people and she knew it, yet she fell for his tricks again, thinking he really had changed. Shaking her head, she stopped resisting, and let the man, who she vowed would never catch her, pull her away.

Fear, anxiety, and adrenaline rushed through her body, making her shiver slightly. Her eyes were watery - she was on the brink of crying - but she willed herself not to let those fat tears betray her just yet. Not in front of him; not again. She promised herself seven years ago that she would never let him see her cry again. He didn't deserve her tears. He didn't.

Maybe he hadn't changed at all. Maybe she just wanted him to change so much she started seeing something in him that wasn't even there – wasn't even real. And that scared her – he shouldn't have that much power over her, not anymore. She was usually so good at reading people. Hell, she could tell someone's life story just by taking one long look at them, but not him. She let her emotions get the better of her, and it cost her the next couple of years of freedom.

In the background, Agent Salvatore proudly recited her rights, a smug smile on his face and a satisfied spark in his eyes; but all she could think of was the man across the room. The same man she used to love, adore and look up to. The same man she used to trust more than anyone. The man who taught her everything she knew…

_**Twenty-eight hours earlier…**_

"Oh my God, Elena! Are you okay?!" Caroline shrieked as she ran after her suddenly-sick friend.

But Elena couldn't respond. Not when she was darting across the bathroom, emptying her stomach into the toilet. _There goes dinner_, she thought bitterly, _and breakfast_. She couldn't believe the news had affected her so much. She was stronger than that, for fuck's sake! It must have been something wrong with the food she ate. Yeah, that was it!

She didn't even realize the blonde had been in the room with her, so she jumped slightly when she felt cool hands cradling her hair out of the way. Elena tried to turn around, to send her friend a reassuring smile, but another wave of nausea hit her again, and she spun her head back just in time.

When she was sure her stomach was empty, she shifted and leaned back against the cold tiles, feeling even worse than she did before. She silently watched Caroline disappear and come back with a glass full of water. Sending her a grateful smile, she downed the water in a few gulps. The taste in her mouth was horrible.

"You okay?" The blonde asked worriedly, pressing the back of her hand against Elena's forehead. "You're warm," she murmured displeased, a frown coloring her beautiful features.

"I'm fine," the brunette tried to assure her, but Caroline would have none of that.

"Yeah, clearly," she breathed out sarcastically as she helped Elena stand up. "Come on, let's get you to bed," the wary friend stated. Elena nodded weakly before she remembered the repulsive taste in her mouth.

"No, wait! I have to brush my teeth first," she insisted, already reaching for her toothbrush.

Rolling her eyes, the blonde patiently waited for her friend to get ready. She didn't want to show it, but Elena's behavior was scaring her. The brunette was never the one to react so drastically – she was always the composed, rational one. Even Caroline didn't responded so intensely when she saw Klaus, and she freaked out immensely.

When Elena was done brushing her teeth and tying her hair into a messy bun, she slowly walked back into her room. Caroline tried to help her, seeing her legs were barely holding the brunette up, but as stubborn and proud as she was, she refused. Elena undressed herself, not caring if the blonde was still present in the room – it wasn't like she hadn't seen her naked before, anyway – and slid under the covers.

Caroline sat down next to her with a sympathetic look on her face. "Will you be alright?" She carefully asked, not wanting to set the brunette off.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Elena smiled weakly.

"Do you want me to stay with you tonight?" She knew her friend didn't like to share her bed, but every time she was upset, Elena would crawl under the sheets with her and just knowing someone was there always made the blonde feel better.

"Huh?" Elena blinked. "What? No, you don't have to. I'll be okay, really." She needed some time to think, and she couldn't do that with Caroline around. "Thanks, though," she offered lamely, but the blonde understood.

"Suit yourself," Caroline shrugged and was about to get up when she felt her friend's fingers wrap around her wrist.

Turning her head back, she cocked her head to the side and waited for whatever her friend had to say. "Thank you," Elena breathed out, her doe eyes boring into Caroline's.

With a nod, the blonde stood up. "Goodnight then."

"Night, Care." The brunette whispered, but Caroline was already gone.

As soon as the doors closed and Elena was left alone with her thoughts, the idea of running after Caroline seemed more than tempting. But she didn't. Instead, she downed another two sleeping pills and laid back, her eyes roaming over the dark ceiling.

Klaus wasn't alone, meaning his brother had accompanied him, and the mere thought made Elena's heart clench. She hadn't seen Elijah – or Klaus for that matter – in over seven years. Their last encounter was less than pleasant, and she couldn't help but shudder at the memory. He was so cruel to her, so viciously, hurtfully cruel when all she was trying to do was help. Elijah knew her better than anyone, and he knew exactly what to say to crush her. To humiliate, mock and utterly break her. She didn't know if she'd ever be able to forgive him for that.

And now he was back, and she had no idea how he looked like, how he was like now. Maybe he'd changed, grown up, and perhaps even straightened up. She could hardly imagine him still being the same – she wouldn't, she couldn't. The same messy, brown hair and chocolate brown orbs, his young face with full lips and a head just a little too big for his eighteen year old body. No, he must have changed. Changed into a real – very handsome, no doubt – man.

And even if he was in town, New York was crowded and massive. There was very little chance they'd bump into each other, right? And who said he'd even want to see or meet her? He made it perfectly clear he wanted nothing to do with her the last time she saw him, why would now be any different?

The pills were working their magic, and Elena felt herself fading away slowly. The last memory invaded her mind before she forcefully slid into a restless sleep.

"_I don't need you in my life, I don't _want_ you in my life. Just like your mother didn't, just like your uncle doesn't…"_

His hoarse voice, dripping with strong English accent, haunted her until she faded away completely.

* * *

It was early in the afternoon when Elena finally dragged herself out of her bed. She was still disoriented, and it was going to take some time to get used to a different time zone. Oh, how she missed the Mediterranean.

After brushing her teeth and taking care of other bathroom needs, she emerged out of her room. She listened carefully, but she couldn't hear anyone moving around the apartment, so she guessed either Caroline was still sleeping or she had gone out. Elena made her way into the living room where she spotted a bag from the nearest bakery, a steaming cup of coffee, and a note placed gently beside it.

Curious, she picked the paper up.

_Went out on a lunch date with – please, don't freak out – Klaus. I'll be back soon._

_Xoxo, Caroline_

Elena couldn't help but frown. What was Caroline doing out with Klaus? _This is so not going to end well… _A pang of guilt hit her when she realized she completely forgot about Caroline's problems. She should be there for her. After all, Caroline and Klaus had a much more complicated history than she and Elijah did.

Thinking about how she was going to repay her friend, she sat down and distractedly nibbled on her muffin. The bubbly blonde must have been so freaked out when she saw her high school sweet-heart again, and she didn't even take a minute to ask her about it. She was a terrible, terrible friend.

Just as she decided on a perfect apology, she heard the elevator 'ding' and the doors opening. Standing up, she made her way towards her friend. "Caroline, I hope you're free tomorrow because…" the words died on her lips when her eyes settled on the two figures approaching her.

Caroline was not alone. "Hello, Elena," the sandy-blond haired man next to her friend spoke with an honest smile on his lips.

"Klaus?!" The brunette shrieked and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. They may not have been that close in the past, but she still loved the guy and missed him like crazy.

"Pleasure to see you too, little one," he chuckled, slightly surprised by her excitement. He was afraid she wouldn't want anything to do with him after what went down between Elijah and her.

Elena always loved the nickname he gave her. Being two years older than her somehow gave him the right to tease her about being smaller and younger than him all through high school.

"How've you been?" She pulled away, smiling as they made their way towards the living room.

"Oh, you know, the usual," Klaus shrugged, and she nodded.

She quickly disposed of her now-empty coffee cup and paper bag, before settling down on a sofa across Caroline. "Come on, sit down! We have some catching up to do," she pressed him before she remembered that may not have been the best idea. Caroline had been silent the whole time, and maybe all of them being in the same place at once wasn't such a bright idea.

"Actually, I was wondering if we could take a walk?" He beat her to it.

"Huh? Oh, yeah sure. Let me just change my clothes. It won't take long," she assured before disappearing into her room.

As fast as she could, she slid on a light blue, knee-length, summer dress and ankle boots. Brushing her hairbrush trough her rich locks a few times, she exited her room and joined the two ex-lovers in the living room. The sight in front of her startled her – they were deeply engaged into a conversation about sports cars. _Are you fucking kidding me?_ There was no way the pair was able to work out their issues in just one short hour of lunch. No fucking way.

"You ready?" Elena asked, making her presence known.

"Off we go, then," Klaus smiled brightly, standing up. "I'll call you," He promised, turning around to nod at Caroline who smiled shyly in return.

* * *

When the elevator doors opened in the lobby, Elena and Klaus were met by the sight of Finn and their small talk died down. "Good afternoon, Miss Pierce!" The guard greeted. smirking. Elena didn't know what it was about him, but she definitely didn't like him. There was something very… wrong about him.

"Miss Pierce?" Klaus mouthed amused when they passed the guard, murmuring a 'hello'.

She all but dragged him out of there, not wanting to discuss anything in Finn's presence. The warm September's air hit her skin, and she immediately thanked herself for dressing lightly.

"Miss Pierce?" Klaus asked again, out loud this time.

"Miss Katherine Pierce, to be exact," she corrected him, chuckling. "It's one of my aliases."

He nodded. "I like it, it suits you."

Even though Elena didn't mind the small talk, she knew Klaus didn't steal her away from Caroline just to talk about her aliases and compliment her. No, he wanted to talk about Elijah, and they both knew it; and no matter how much she didn't want to ruin her good mood and get down to the heavy stuff, she knew it would come up eventually.

So, she decided to rip off the Band Aid. "What do you have to tell me without Caroline eavesdropping, Klaus?" She probed as they made their way through Central Park.

Sighing heavily, he gestured for them to sit down on the nearest empty bench. She complied, preparing herself for whatever he had to say; but when the words left his mouth, she realized there was nothing that could have prepared her for them.

"Elijah wants to see you. Tonight." He blurted out, shocking the brunette to her core. She wasn't sure what shocked her more - his bluntness, or his words.

"Why?" Her voice was low and shaky, and she hated herself for being so weak.

"I don't know why, love. All I know is that he will be waiting for you tonight, at the Four Seasons, around eight." He seemed genuine enough, and Elena believed him.

Millions of possible ideas of what could happen if she met him ran through her mind, but none of them seemed pleasant enough. She didn't know what to do. If she didn't go, then she would never know what he had to say, she would probably never see him again, and that was enough to spin her head.

"Oh, God," She all but cried out. "What am I supposed to do with that?"

"Look, love, Elijah's my brother, and I would do anything for him, but I know how much he hurt you. He hurt us all back then, but I've never seen somebody as broken as you were after everything that went down. So if you don't want to go see him, nobody's going to force you or judge you for it. Just do what _you_ want, not what you think you should do." Klaus let out gently, resting his hand on her shoulder. "That's why I didn't want to discuss this in front of Caroline – I don't want her opinion to cloud your own." The gentleness of his voice and the understanding in his tone surprised Elena. She didn't remember him being so…compassionate and comforting.

"But he isn't the same selfish person he was back then, Elena, you have to know that. He has changed. A lot," he sighed and she nodded in response, not really knowing what to say.

They sat in comfortable silence for some time, each lost in their own thoughts. She had so much thinking to do, so deep to dig in her memories, before she could decide whether she'd go see Elijah or not; but there was constantly that voice in her head telling her, _of course you'll go, it's Elijah!_

Needing to direct her thoughts elsewhere, she started thinking about the man beside her and how much he'd changed. He was no longer that too-thin-and-too-tall guy, his hair wasn't long anymore, and his English accent had faded slightly. His arms and chest were muscular now, his stomach flat and toned, and his shoulders broader. His hair was much shorter now, and his jaw sharper. He had that sexy five o'clock shadow Caroline always dreamed about, and his eyes seemed even bluer than before. The awkward khaki pants were replaced by tight, black, expensive jeans, Converse were replaced by black boots, and baggy shirts with tight, grey, V-necks. He was a completely different person.

She wondered what Caroline thought about his change, and the guilt came rushing back.

"Klaus?" Elena probed, turning to face him.

"Yes, love?" He smiled slightly, glad he didn't lose all of his British charms.

"What are you doing with Caroline?" Her voice was low, and she almost wished he couldn't hear her, but she had to look out for her best friend, and if the guy who her friend spent years crying over came back, it was a best friend's duty to be cautious.

She knew Klaus was a great man – he always had been - but she just couldn't risk Caroline's heart again, even though she knew that wasn't her decision to make.

Looking him over more carefully, she noticed there was no ring on his left hand or even a tan-line of one, which was good – it meant Klaus wasn't married.

She could see he was not pleased with her question when he let out a loud sigh. Running his fingers through his sandy-blond hair, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I won't hurt her again, Elena," he said, almost offended, and Elena realized her mistake.

"I know you won't hurt her intentionally, you would never do that," she assured. "I'm just saying be careful. Losing you back then almost killed her; I don't think she'd survive if she lost you again." The brunette knew Caroline would strangle her when she'd found out exactly what Elena was about to tell him, but she couldn't care about that right now, she couldn't be so selfish.

The words hung heavily in the air as Klaus slowly raised his head and turned towards Elena. She watched as his shocked look changed into anger, then disbelief, and in the end settled for pain and sorrow. "Elena," his voice broke. "Please, tell me that was a figure of speech. _Tell me_ she didn't do anything stupid." If she was anyone else, if she didn't know him, she would back away at his sharp, almost threatening voice. Instead, she stayed silent and let her eyes water. "Tell me she didn't hurt herself." The words were followed by a half-sob from the strong man beside her, and her heart broke.

"It wasn't your fault, Klaus. What happened was no one's fault - not yours, not Caroline's – no one's." She swallowed the tears, and it was her turn to place her hand on his thigh reassuringly now. He nodded, but she didn't believe him. She knew both of them blamed themselves.

"What happened?" Klaus finally asked, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"It was about five months after we moved here. We were living in a shitty, one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn, just about to find something better. Money wasn't a problem anymore, but we couldn't just up and move from Brooklyn to Upper East Side; it would raise suspicions and questions, so we decided to stay a bit longer." She paused for a moment when she noticed a guy walking past them a little too close to her liking, and she shielded her face with the ever-present fedora.

When he was far enough away, she relaxed again and turned back to an impatient Klaus. She couldn't really blame him, though. "I had to go out of the states for a few days – there was an FBI agent snooping around and I had to get him off our trail – and she assured me she'd be fine. She was looking much better; she was going out and even found herself a job, so I believed her." Elena shook her head angrily.

"Go on," he urged her as gently as possible and she nodded, knowing he deserved to know the truth. She knew it wasn't her place to tell him, and she was sure she would suffer the consequences later, but she also knew Caroline wouldn't tell him on her own. So it really left her no choice.

"I came home a few days earlier than I told her I would; I wanted to surprise her, knowing she didn't like to be alone, but as soon as I entered the apartment, I knew something was wrong. I called for her, but she was now where to be found. I searched her bedroom and the whole apartment before deciding to invade her privacy in case she was in the bathroom. I burst in and I found her… Oh, God." She couldn't hold the sobs anymore, and the tears came spilling down her cheeks.

It took her a moment to get the next words out. "She was lying on the cold tiles, and there was blood everywhere. There was so much blood… I thought… I didn't know what happened when I noticed her wrists and… I can't. I'm sorry." The brunette cried out and as Klaus watched her – the girl who'd been through so much in her short life – so broken and vulnerable, he couldn't help but pull her into a tight hug again.

Elena welcomed his hug, burying her face in his chest, and she didn't care where they were and if the people walking past them could see her. The memories and pictures of that night flooded through her mind, making her relive the whole thing all over again, and it was too much.

She wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, but eventually she pulled away, wiping her tears away with the back of her hands. When she noticed the dry tears on his cheeks as well, she wanted to burst out crying again. She couldn't believe their lives turned out so wrong. It was never supposed to be like this - they were supposed to be happy.

"I called an ambulance, and we made it to the hospital just in time. She stayed there for four days for observation, but I couldn't be there with her. The incident was too big, and that fucking FBI agent came fishing again. It was the worst four days of my life." The words surprised even her. Klaus didn't know what to say; he knew what Elena went through with her uncle, and even before that, and those simple words melted his heart. All he ever wanted was for Caroline to have somebody who'd care for her at least as much as he did, even if that was just her best friend and not some knight in shining armor.

"Don't get involved with her if you don't intend on staying, Klaus. If this is just a short vacation for you, then leave her alone." Her voice was sharper than she wanted it to be, but he understood where she was coming from – she was just looking out for her friend.

"I'm not going anywhere, Elena. I've wasted seven years of my life away from her; I don't plan on wasting any more." He told her confidently.

"Okay." She sniffled. "Then I'm guessing I don't need to do the whole 'if you hurt her I'm going to cut your balls off' speech again, do I?" She smirked.

"Nope, got that message loud and clear from a fourteen year old girl ten years ago. Even though I was the one who knew Caroline longer than she did," he teased, making Elena giggle as she remembered the speech she gave him when they started dating.

"So, you're moving here?" She asked unsure.

"Yes, love. Maybe we could be roommates and have a sexy pillow fight every night," he winked and she slapped him playfully on his chest. He chuckled low in his throat. "Do you still sleep naked?" A teasing smirk crept onto his mouth, and she gasped, tying to cover her blush.

"Klaus!" She knew he was kidding, and for any bystander it would look like mild flirting, but they both knew it was nothing like that. Elena didn't think Klaus would ever find anyone who would complete and love him as much as Caroline did – as much as Caroline always would.

"Yes, I'm buying an apartment here. I just have to go back to Chicago to sort some things out and I'll be back in a few weeks. Hopefully for good," he sighed, and she nodded.

"Will you… Are you moving here by yourself?" She averted her eyes and bit her lip nervously, her heartbeat picking up its pace.

"I don't know yet, love. You're going to have to ask him yourself," he didn't have to pretend to not know what she was really asking him. There was no point.

"Klaus, I don't know what to do," she admitted quietly, cursing herself for showing anyone how weak she was.

"I know you don't, little one, but don't worry, I'm sure you'll make the right decision in the end," he assured her, standing up.

"Come on, let's go back. You have some thinking to do, and I need to talk to Caroline," Klaus decided, offering her his hand and pulling her up when she took it. Elena knew what he had to talk with Caroline about, and she wasn't looking forward to her friend's wrath once they were alone.

* * *

The clock was ticking and Elena was torn between going to Four Seasons and not going to Four Seasons. She discussed all the pros and cons at least a million times, and she always came back to the beginning.

Her heart had been shattered, stomped over, and cut so many times, she couldn't get hurt again. Especially not because of him. But on the other side, she could see him again, she could hear his voice, and maybe, just maybe, he really had changed. Maybe things could go back to normal again. Of course not. Nothing would ever be normal between them again. _Ugh_.

Her head hurt, her heart ached, and she was going crazy from all the thinking, plotting and inner-monolog-ing she'd been having with herself for the last four hours. It was already seven-thirty in the evening, and she was supposed to meet him in half an hour!

_You're going to regret it if you don't go. He deserves a second chance, everyone does._ The angel on her right shoulder warned her, while the devil on her left shoulder kept whispering, _don't go. You don't owe him anything. You're only going to get hurt again_.

Frustrated, she fell on her bed face first, and screamed into her pillow, "What the fuck am I going to do?"

The closer the clock got to eight, the sweatier her palms got, the faster her heart beat, and the heavier her breathing became. She was going mad. Glancing at the clock, she noticed she had only fifteen minutes left. _Get a grip, Gilbert. _

Angrily, she jumped off the bed, grabbed her phone, and yanked the door open, almost tearing it off the hinges. She knew anger was only masking the fear and anxiety, and that only made her angrier. Afraid she'd change her mind if she slowed down, she stomped past the living room where Klaus and Caroline were, towards the elevator.

"Which room?" She shouted as she called the elevator.

She could faintly hear Klaus chuckling but decided to ignore it. "Presidential suite," he yelled back, making her roll her eyes. _Fucking spoilt brats. _Then she looked around her home and guiltily smiled. _We're all fucking spoilt brats._

* * *

The drive towards the Four Seasons was too long, and with each passing minute, the dreadful feeling grew. She was scared, terrified really, even though she would never admit it out loud. The realization dawned on her; she was going to see him after seven years – she was going to see her best friend again. Only he wasn't her best friend anymore, he wasn't even her friend anymore – he was just somebody she used to know. And that hurt more than she was ready to admit.

Panic took over, and she had to physically stop herself from turning around. _You can do this, Elena. It's just Elijah. _Except it wasn't _just_ Elijah, it was _Elijah _for God's sake! She could still vividly remember climbing on her roof with him to watch sunsets, she could remember running from her uncle to her protector, she could remember him teaching her self-defense – she could remember it all.

"I can't do this," she whispered out loud. "Oh God, I can't do this!" But it was too late; she could already see the hotel. Staying in the car for a few extra minutes, she evened out her breathing and calmed her heartbeat. "Oh, _fuck _it!" Making up her mind for the last time, she flung the doors open and handed the valet her keys.

She was nervous, she was anxious, she was scared shitless, she was nauseous, she felt claustrophobic, she was losing her mind, and it definitely wasn't helping her at all. The elevator ride was the longest minute of her life. With each floor that passed, she felt worse. With each floor that passed, more memories came rushing back to her. With each floor that passed, she was closer to fainting.

The unfamiliar 'ding' echoed through the small space, startling her, and she paled. Wide-eyed, she glued her eyes on the doors and held her breath. _This is it._ She could hardly hear the soft music playing in the background; the only sound she could hear perfectly was the quickened beating of her heart. Her breathing was heavy and uneven, her arms were sweaty, and goose bumps erupted on her skin.

With painful slowness, the doors opened and there he was.

She couldn't stop the loud gasp that escaped her lips as her hand went to her mouth and eyes watered. Her charm bracelet slid down her wrist. He was so grown up; he wasn't the awkward eighteen-year old anymore. No, he was a man now, and a damn sexy one at that. She could hardly believe it was him.

He was completely and utterly different, yet painfully the same.

Taking her time, she took all of him in. He was slim, yet muscular, and his shoulders were broader. He still wasn't tall, but he was definitely a fine man. He was wearing black – no doubt very expensive – dress pants, a dark-grey shirt tucked into his pants, a black suit jacket, and a black tie hanging around his neck.

She smiled when she remembered their conversation way back when he told her he would never dress up unless he absolutely had to. He was so sure he'd have those stupid, baggy pants of his forever.

The smile faded, however, when her gaze finally fell on his beautiful face. His dark-brown haircut was a lot more stylish and elegant that it was seven years ago; it wasn't just a bit too long like it used to be, there were no locks falling in his eyes and curling around his ears. It was short, but it suited him a lot more than it used to. His cheekbones much sharper and his lips fuller, his ears didn't stand out, and his nose wasn't too small for his face anymore. He was enchanting.

But when her eyes met his chocolate-brown ones, a deep frown painted her face. They looked pained, sorrowful; but most of all, regretful and guilty. A flicker of hope passed through her, but it disappeared instantly when the corner of her eye caught a movement in the back of the room.

She took a small step back, and the feeling that something was wrong surfaced. Just then, the dark figure emerged from the shadows. _No, no it can't be! Not now, not like this!_

But it was; in front of her stood Agent fucking Salvatore in all of his glory.

* * *

**_Feedback is love!_**


	4. We Have A Deal

**PLAYING WITH FIRE**

_**Chapter 3: We Have A Deal**_

_by W. A. Ravensdale_

* * *

So, here's the third chapter. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I had enjoyed writing it!

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Diaries or any of its characters._**

As always, a gigantic thank you goes to **_RunningInAir _**for being the best beta ever!

My twitter: **_WARavensdale_**

* * *

_"I don't like to give up on people when they need someone not to give up on them."_

― Carroll Bryant

* * *

_**Two years later…**_

Prison wasn't _that_ bad. Well, it wasn't if you knew basic self-defense and were relatively good with people – yes, you definitely had to be a people person to last more than a day in that shit-hole. Lucky for Elena, she found her way around it. Actually, she even made a new friend in there – a woman she grew to tolerate over the next couple of years.

Rose Johnson was a twenty-eight year old journalist with a brilliant British accent – a bit too noisy and aggressive for the likes of the government. She was in prison for trespassing, sentenced to three years without bail. Let's just say she took her job a little too seriously and got in too deeply with powerful people. She was the kind of journalist who didn't mind getting her hands dirty if it meant she could make a great story out of it, and even though Elena didn't particularly adore journalists – or anyone who stuck their noses everywhere in general – she grew to like and respect her cellmate.

Elena was just happy that the FBI didn't have anything other than a few forgeries on her. They were, of course, aware of most of the crimes she committed, things she stole, and pieces she forged, but they didn't have any – or enough – evidence for any sort of conviction, and she was thankful for that. Unfortunately for her, Agent Salvatore managed to convince Judge Martin to not grant her bail, so she either had to spend another three years in prison or come up with a brilliant escape plan – which was risky and would take a lot of time to perfect.

"God, I miss tea. And I mean the _real_ kind, not this shit they serve here," Rose Johnson complained as she plopped down on the metal bench, making Elena chuckle. "Don't you bloody laugh," she groaned in her thick British accent.

They were sitting in the cafeteria at their usual table against the east wall, not paying attention to others around them. They preferred to keep to themselves, which was understandable considering what kind of women some of the others were. Elena was no saint, but the stories she heard about some of them made her sick to her stomach.

"Come on, Rose. It's not that bad," Elena tried, but even she knew she was lying. The food was utterly disgusting. When the elder brunette glared at her, Elena shook her head, laughing. "Okay, so maybe it is, but it could be worse," she offered, trying to lighten up the mood.

"I guess. You know, I woul-" Rose stopped talking, making Elena's eyes part from her plate as she looked at her friend confused, but Rose's eyes were focused on something behind her.

Slowly turning around, she saw one of the guards approaching them. "Mr. Davis," Elena greeted nicely. She learned on her first day that there were often benefits that came with being nice to the guards.

"Miss Gilbert, there is someone here to see you," he smiled genuinely, his eyes lingering on Rose for a moment before he cocked his head to the side and patiently waited.

With a nod, Elena got up and walked through the cafeteria with the guard following closely behind. She was curious to say the least. She wasn't expecting any visitors today. Caroline came to visit her every Monday – sometimes with Klaus, sometimes alone. Then there was Elijah who tried to talk to her a few times, but wasn't as successful as he thought he would be. Elena made it perfectly clear she didn't have anything to say to him no matter how many times he assured her he wasn't the one who tipped the FBI off about her whereabouts. She even kindly let the guards know she didn't wish to see him anymore.

But the person who was waiting for her wasn't Elijah or Caroline; it was Agent Salvatore. To say Elena was surprised was an understatement.

He was leaning against the wall, one of his legs slightly crooked with his arms folded across his firm chest. The brownish folder in one of his hands caught her attention, but it was well hidden behind his muscular arms, so she couldn't make out what it was. Even though he looked tired and a little worse for wear, he was still as sexy as always. It was obvious he hadn't been home for at least a day, maybe even longer. His slightly wrinkled dress pants and jacket would explain if he was cheating on his fiancée, but the faint bags under his eyes, a few months old silver cufflinks with initials A&D on his cuffs, and the five o'clock shadow ruled the option out. Clearly he was faithful to his fiancée.

So, either he'd spent the night at the hospital, he and his fiancée had a fight and she kicked him out, or it was work related, and judging by his frustrated and frowning gaze and the fact that he wasn't injured or looked worried about someone else, it wasn't the hospital either. From the way his fingers drummed silently against his biceps and not even the faintest smell of alcohol could be detected, Elena knew it was definitely work.

"Agent Salvatore, to what do I owe this pleasure?" Elena purred, clearly drawing him out of his thoughts. Judging by the fact that he didn't look pleased to see her, she assumed he needed her help; and she was most certainly his last choice, so it had to be serious. A smirk painted her features as he narrowed his eyes at her and pushed himself off the wall.

She looked back at the guard and nodded before she slowly went to sit down on one of two chairs behind the metal desk. They both heard a soft click of doors closing behind them.

"I have some questions for you," he said nonchalantly, setting the folder on the table.

"No, you actually don't." She chuckled softly. "You're working on a case, a very serious case assuming from the fact that you haven't been home for a day or two, and you're nowhere close to catching the genius. So, you came here. You thought you could trick me into telling you something, because you know you can't catch him – _or_ her – on your own. Therefore, you thought if you fooled me into believing I was interrogated, I would help you figure it out without even knowing it. Am I right, Salvatore?" Her victory however didn't last long, and her grin fell as he coolly opened the folder and slid it across the metal surface. It was Caroline's record. _What had she gotten herself into now that was so big it caught the FBI's radar?_

"I believe you know Miss Forbes, am I wrong?" Something wasn't right. She could feel it. This wasn't about Caroline being _naughty_ again; it was bigger than that, and an unsettling feeling gathered at the pit of her stomach.

"What does Caroline have to do with anything?" She could reflect, lie about knowing her to protect her best friend, but something told her they weren't trying to send her best friend to jail. No, it was something else.

"Caroline Forbes was kidnapped two days ago." And just like that, the color drained from her face.

"What?" Her big, doe eyes settled on the man who resented her with a passion, but all she could see in them was the exhaustion consuming him. "How did that happen?" She needed to know anything that may help her figure out who took her, and most importantly _why._

"From what we could gather, it was an inside job. Miss Forbes was taken from her apartment at ten on Thursday. We believe she was waiting for Klaus Mikaelson to arrive – that's why she didn't notice anything strange when the abductors came into the apartment – but Mr. Mikaelson's car was sabotaged – there were clean cuts on the breaks, and the airbags were slashed. He's in intensive care as we speak. The doctors aren't sure if he's going to wake up from his coma. The chances are fifty-fifty." His voice was uncharacteristically anxious.

"Oh, God," was all she was able to let out as her mind already began to run high with different ideas, plots, and even outcomes.

But she willed herself to think rationally and _not_ to panic. It wouldn't do Caroline any good if the brunette couldn't think straight. Her best friend needed her; that was all that counted. But why would Salvatore come to her for help, and most of all, why was a White Collar agent so interested in an everyday kidnapping? Unless… _Oh!_

"You know who it is?" She knew that was very unlikely, but there had to be some suspects who were known for white collar crimes for Agent Salvatore to be involved.

"No, we don't know who took her, but the letter they sent to your address could be connected to someone we've been trying to catch for months." He tried to share as little information as possible, Elena could see that.

"I will help you under one condition," she still managed to smile slyly.

"Who said anything about needing your hel-" He didn't, however, have the chance to finish the sentence as she pushed her chair away and stood up.

"I think we both know why exactly you are here, and honestly, Agent, playing dumb only makes you look like a fool. If you want my help, I need to go to the apartment and see it for myself. Caroline would have left us something to work on – if she was able to - and believe me, I'm the only one who can find her, so swallow your pride and get me out of here. The sooner we find Caroline, the sooner I'll be back in this shit-hole, and you can have your pride back." She left no room for discussion.

She could see how much it annoyed and frustrated him, but he was obviously desperate and out of options. "Let's just make one thing clear, _Gilbert_," he all but spat out. "_I'm_ in charge here; you follow _my_ rules, you go where _I_ tell you to go, and you don't try _anything_ stupid. And don't even think about running because, believe me, you won't get far." His voice was threatening when he stalked towards her.

"I know you have a very low opinion of me, Salvatore, but Caroline means the world to me, and I won't stop searching until we find her. So, no, I won't try running," she stated firmly, raising her chin a bit.

"Besides, we both know I could have broken out of here in the first month if I wanted to. The only thing holding me back was the risk of having to leave my home forever. But, you see, Caroline _is _my home. So, you can imagine what I would do to have her back. Either you let me help willingly, or you lose all of your pride and respect when people learn I'm free again, and that I managed to escape one of the most guarded prisons in the states. It's your choice, really." Except it wasn't, and they both knew it.

* * *

"This is your ankle bracelet. It will track your every move, and it will go off, alerting the FBI and Agent Salvatore directly, if you go outside the twenty-mile radius. Also, don't try to break it, hack it, or take it off – a group of agents will be at your doorstep in less than a minute," the kind Mr. Davis warned her, before he opened the door to her freedom – well, _more_ freedom.

It was a rainy day, but Elena didn't mind, not really. She loved rain, always had, but stepping on grass and breathing in the fresh air was still overwhelmingly amazing. Sure, she spent quite a lot of time on the yard of the prison, but that was inside the fences. This, this was outside, and it was fantastic.

"Good luck, Elena," the guard called, and she nodded kindly.

Slowly, the brunette turned around, and her eyes searched the parking lot. There was one car in particular that caught her eye, and she just knew it belonged to Agent Salvatore. It was a blue, convertible Chevy Camaro – a relatively old model, but, without a doubt, a very sexy beast. She could see, even from a distance, that this car was his baby – it was well-aged and very well taken care of. Not caring about rain, she took her time, and slowly made her way towards the car. It was mainly to piss Salvatore off, really.

As soon as she sat down on the leather seat, the manly smell of aftershave, bourbon, and minty shampoo overwhelmed her nostrils. She relaxed against the soft fabric and smiled at his annoyed gaze.

"Oh, I'm sorry." She feigned embarrassment. "Am I dripping all over your car?" When she heard him snort in response, she couldn't help but let the corners of her mouth crook.

He finally got some sleep, she noticed. There were no nasty bags under his eyes anymore and the color was back on his face, making him look even more attractive. She mentally cried out. It'd been far too long since she'd been with anyone. _Why couldn't he be a fat, sleazy cop?_

"So, tell me, how _did_ you catch me?" Elena asked after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. "I mean, we both know you couldn't have done it without a little help." When he grimaced, she knew for sure someone had tipped him off.

"It was an anonymous tip. The voice was masked to the point where we couldn't even recognize the gender of the caller anymore," he stated shortly, making a sharp turn to the left.

She frowned at his words. There was a one-hundred-thousand-dollar price on her head, so if the people who sold her out were anonymous, that meant they didn't need that kind of money – they were relatively wealthy. Just another arrow pointing in Elijah's way… A quiet sigh left her mouth.

"Where are we going exactly?" She couldn't help but wonder as they drove between buildings.

She didn't like the smirk that formed on his mouth. It was too smart, too cocky. "I'm taking you to where you'll be staying for the next few days."

"But I already have an apartment," she murmured. Of course, she knew she couldn't stay at the apartment – it was a crime scene – but still, she didn't like the mischievous look on his face.

He said nothing, and after two or three more minutes of silence, the car came to a stop in front of a sleazy motel. The red MOTEL sign was flickering, obviously broken, and the T hung upside down. She shot the raven-haired man a murderous glare, but his smirk stayed intact. They both got out of the car.

She couldn't help but notice how much sexier he looked when his hair was messy and wet from the rain. The water droplets slid down his sharp cheekbones, his jaw, and his neck, disappearing under the collar of the tight, black shirt. The thin piece of clothing hugged him like a second skin, especially now that it was soaking wet. The casual look suited him better, she decided.

Not that she minded the dress pants and the whole 'Sexy Agent' look, but there was something about the leather jacket and tight black jeans that made him more human – more bad boy, if you will.

When she finally tore her eyes away from his slim frame, her eyes settled on the barely-stable building, and her eyebrows creased together in distaste. _No fucking way!_

"I'm not staying here," she stated, disgusted.

He was more than pleased with himself for picking the worst motel he could find for her; Elena could see that from the way his eyes ran over the place with almost a proud look on his face.

"Oh, yes you are. We are giving you five dollars per night. Now, if you can find a better motel in the twenty-mile radius, than by all means, find yourself a better one. If not, you're stuck with this." He flashed an arrogant smile, before he rounded his car and got in.

"Meet me at my house tomorrow at eight sharp." He called out over the rain and sped off, not even bothering to check if she knew where he lived. Which she – fortunately for her – did.

Her wet clothes, which were practically glued to her skin by now, and the slow, yet strong, wind were making her shiver slightly; and, even though she didn't really mind the rain, she decided she should go and check out the disgustingly wrecked hotel. At least it had to be warm inside, right?

"Fucking asshole," she murmured, and walked into the building, thinking that even prison was nicer than this dump.

* * *

As it turned out, it wasn't much warmer inside the motel than it was outside, but at least there was hot water in something barely resembling a bathroom. It was, of course, an adjoined bathroom – one bathroom for the whole motel. The repulsively unclean surface was no shock to her – she didn't really expect anything better. She vowed herself to get back at Salvatore.

To say Elena didn't get much sleep was an understatement. The motel kept making all those creepy noises, plus the couple next door seemed to be too lost in each other to notice the walls were thin as paper, so Elena had to spend the night listening to their moans of passion. Now, it was true she hadn't had any in over two years, but that didn't mean she enjoyed hearing two horny teenagers going at it.

Instead, her thoughts drifted back to Caroline, and worry settled in again. Sure the blonde could take care of herself, but Elena had no idea who had taken her and why; she wasn't even sure her best friend was still alive, and that was something she didn't want to think about.

And then there was Klaus. She felt so guilty for not thinking about him much – her worry for Caroline blinded her so much she barely even though of the man who made her best friend the happiest she had seen her in nine years. At the first chance she'd get, she would visit him in the hospital, even though he was comatose.

A few minutes to seven, the knock on the door startled Elena, and she sat up abruptly. Still in only an oversized t-shirt she had managed to get from one of the guards, she dragged herself to the door. She was fatigued, and she was pretty sure the exhaustion was written all over her face.

Pulling the wooden door open, she forgot all about the tiredness as her eyes settled onto the lean figure of her former best friend. "Can I come in?" Elijah asked, holding a box of Dunkin' Donuts in one hand and a backpack in the other one.

"Huh? Yeah sure," it was definitely too early for Elena to think straight. Otherwise, she surely wouldn't let that man into her room.

"How did you know where I was?" She asked suspiciously as he looked around the room in distaste and settled the paper box on the bed.

"I have friends in high places," was all he shared, before he reluctantly sat down on the bed. "Go on, eat. I know you're hungry." He tried to lighten up the mood, she could see.

"What do you want, Elijah?" Elena was tired and frustrated and extremely anxious – she didn't need Elijah fishing around as well.

"Why would you think I want something?" He looked a little offended, but he couldn't blame her for being hostile. He knew she never really forgave him for crushing her heart and stomping all over it when they were younger, but he also knew she didn't really believe it was him who set her up – she just couldn't admit to herself he wasn't the one to blame this time.

"Cut the bullshit. We aren't friends, we aren't lovers, and we aren't acquaintances – we are practically strangers; and a stranger wouldn't visit me at seven in the morning, bringing me donuts," she huffed, but took one of the chocolate donuts nonetheless.

"I'm trying to help you find Caroline, Elena, and I brought you some clothes; I thought you may need them." As the words left his mouth, she realized the clothing – or lack of it – she was in, and blushed faintly.

Grabbing the backpack, she pulled out a pair of black jeans and slid them on, trying not to look at him. "Thank you," she let out, but they both knew it wasn't genuine.

She had a lot of time to think about Elijah in prison, and she had come to one conclusion: people change, and there was nothing you could do about it. She realized their story was over, their book closed, the chapter had ended and all that.

"I have my best man on it, 'Lena. We will find her, I promise." He looked so real, so sorrowful, regretful, and determined, and she had to look away.

"Don't call me that," she spat before she could help herself. Who did he think he was? That nickname was reserved for the people closest to her, not a man she didn't even know anymore. It enraged her how he thought he could just waltz in like he owned the place, throw a couple of nice words at her, and expect her to just magically forget about all the unresolved feelings and unspoken words.

He stayed quiet and only nodded.

"I'm sorry about Klaus," she finally said when she calmed down and trusted herself enough to speak again, sitting on the old armchair across the room.

"He's going to be fine; he always is." His voice was convincing, but his eyes held so much pain it almost killed Elena. She involuntarily let out a dry laugh. She still fucking cared; she still couldn't see him hurt.

He chose to ignore her behavior, not entirely sure what she saw that was so funny. "There is one thing I ask of you in return." _Oh, here is the Elijah I know!_ Elena almost laughed out loud. Of course, he wouldn't do anything without a cost.

"Oh, yeah? And what's that?" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"I want you to listen to me. You keep shutting me out, and I understand why. I know I hurt you, but someday you'll have to listen to what I have to say." He sounded tired. Not that kind of tired where you haven't slept for days or had a lot on your mind – it was that kind of tired you get when you try to make someone understand, but they're just too stubborn to listen.

Elena thought for a moment while munching on her donut. Her brain screamed to shut him out, to never let him get close to her again, but the heart ached for him – it ached for her best friend. In the end, she decided she owed him at least that.

"Fine, but after we save Caroline," _I can't go through that much heartache and pain at once,_ she finished in her mind.

"Of course." He nodded, standing up. "You know, if you want, I can arrange you a better room than this," he offered as he straightened his jacket.

"I don't want your money, Elijah," she stated, offended. Of course, she wanted to get out of this hell, but she was too proud to accept help, especially his.

"Okay. Then I can _lend _you the money, and Caroline will pay me back when we get her back." Elena couldn't help but smile at his choice of words. He didn't say 'if', he said 'when', and she knew he was just trying to comfort her and fuel her hope, for which she was thankful. She would be pissed if it was anything else – she hated when people gave her false hope – but when it came to Caroline, she could use the comfort.

"Okay, I'd like that," she admitted, nodding.

Elena couldn't remember the last time she saw Elijah smile like he smiled as the words left her mouth. He looked like a child on a Christmas morning, and Elena couldn't help but think for a second that he may miss her as much as she missed him. The thought, however, left her just as fast as it came to her, and she dismissed it with a slight shake of her head. _Of course he didn't miss me. Why would he?_

"Great. There's a phone in there as well," he said, waving towards the backpack. "I'll text you with details." He smiled, and walked towards the door.

"Catch you later."

"Huh? Yeah, bye," she murmured distractedly as she searched the bag for what else he bought her. She didn't like it when people paid for her – it made her feel like she owed them, and she hated that feeling.

* * *

At exactly eight in the morning, the yellow cab stopped in front of Salvatore's house, and she got out, leaving the cabby a nice tip. The raven-haired FBI agent and his fiancée lived in a decent, white terraced house, with a white picket-fence separating it from the houses next to it. As much as she hated to admit, the house was beautifully ordinary.

Distractedly, she glanced down at her hands where two cups of steaming coffee were resting, and felt stupid all of the sudden. Why was she bringing him coffee again?

Used to having to hide her discomfort all the time, she let the mask fall on her face again, and a wide grin spread across her face. She walked towards the front door and rang the bell. There was no immediate response, and just as her hand went up to press the bell again, she heard someone unlocking the doors.

"What happened to eight a.m. sharp?" But it wasn't Agent Salvatore who opened the door. It was a petit blonde with heavy make-up and unnatural curls. _Andie Star, _Elena thought unpleasantly. She didn't like her, she decided right away.

Smiling, she looked the other woman up and down, not even trying to hide the judging look on her face. "Good morning," she smirked as her eyes settled on Andie's frowning face.

Elena always knew she was sexy with her long locks, chocolate brown eyes, and fit figure. Men wanted to fuck her, and women wanted to be her. It was like that ever since she could remember. And even though it bothered her immensely in the beginning, she learned how to use it to her own advantage over time.

Like right now, when she could see Salvatore's fiancée wasn't pleased with him working so close to a sinful woman like her. With distaste, Elena thought the blonde really had nothing on her. The moment she looked her over more carefully, she knew what she was hiding, yet she decided her secret would be safe, for now.

"You're the corrupted one, I assume?" The blonde cocked her perfectly plucked eyebrow, one of her hands still on the side of the door.

_Bitch, I might be._ "I guess so," she let out instead, not able to hide the amused smirk.

"So, where is our boyfriend?" Elena couldn't help herself.

Andie let out an un-lady-like snort and pushed past her down the path. "He's all yours," she all but hissed, her high heels clicking as she went. Elena rolled her eyes and, pushing the door open, let herself in.

"You know, it's not polite to keep a girl waiting," she called out into empty space since she wasn't sure where her new partner may be. In the end, she decided she would wait for him at the door, not really in a mood for fishing around his house. _Maybe some other time_, she thought.

Leaning against the wall, she pulled the phone Elijah had brought her out of the inside pocket of her new leather jacket, and stared at it thoughtfully. She wondered if she was stupid to accept his request. She didn't want to get in too deep with him again. God knows it didn't end well the last time…

A movement at the top of the stairs caught her eyes, and she let her eyes fall on the man she was supposed to hate. Partly thankful for distraction, she slid the phone back where it was and leaned against the wall.

"Sorry, I overslept!" Salvatore exclaimed as he ran down the stairs, a shirt hanging open on his muscular shoulders, making Elena's eyes involuntarily run down across his firm chest and strong, sexy abs to where his black jeans hung dangerously loose on his hips.

Even though her mind didn't want to, her body seemed to remember the things men could do with bodies as strong as his was, and she uncomfortably pushed herself away from the wall, trying to look unaffected. With a silent sigh of relief, she noticed he was too distracted to pay attention to her. Collecting herself, she followed him into the kitchen.

"Had Andie gone already?" He asked, buttoning his shirt. He sounded out of breath and incredibly confused, which Elena found quite amusing.

"Yes. She's really classy, you know, that fiancée of yours," she innocently stated, sliding the still warm cup of coffee across the counter.

His eyes followed he movement warily, not making a move to take the cup in his hands. "Oh, for God's sake! I didn't poison it, if that's what you're trying to decide."

Snorting, he finally snatched the cup and reluctantly made a sip. "Well, I'm sorry for being cautious. With you, a person never knows…" he trailed off.

"I hope this isn't your attempt at bribing me, because it would take a lot more than a coffee," he smirked, and left the kitchen in search for something. He came back a second later with his black, leather jacket already hanging loosely on his shoulders.

"I didn't think you could be bribed, Salvatore. Was I wrong?" She knew she wasn't – he was too much of a black-and-white kind of a guy to fully understand any shades of grey.

He scoffed and shook his head.

"But no, I wasn't trying to _bribe_ you." She rolled her eyes. "I was thinking we could at least be civil if we'll be working together, don't you think?" A loud, dry laugh echoed through the small space and he grimaced.

But in the end, he gave in. "Fine, _Elena._"

A victorious smile played on her lips as she went to make a sip of her coffee. "So, Damon, are there any leads yet?"

* * *

_**Feedback is love!**_


	5. Where Are You?

**PLAYING WITH FIRE**

_**Chapter 4: Where Are You?**_

_by W. A. Ravensdale_

* * *

Thank you all for the great feedback! I _love_ reading each and every review you leave me! I really hope you like this chapter.

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Diaries or any of its characters._**

Of course, this wouldn't be shit if it weren't for my amazing beta - thank you **_RunningInAir_**!

My twitter: **_WARavensdale_**

* * *

_"Humans are predators, not prey. Always remember that." _

_― Dia Reeves_

* * *

Tearing the yellow tape, which was marking the crime scene, out of the way, Elena finally entered her apartment for the first time in over two years. A strong feeling of nostalgia and longing overwhelmed her, and she smiled sadly, letting out a silent sigh.

It shocked her how nothing really changed. She wasn't gone for _that_ long, that was true, but she still didn't expect it to be so _untouched_, so uncharacteristically the same since the pair constantly got bored of the surroundings and moved the furniture around, or even decided to re-decorate a handful of times before she went to prison.

She was pleased, however, to see all the enchanting art decorating the place and plants occupying the empty space. It brought life into the apartment, making it unique but not kitschy.

"How the hell did you manage to live here and go unnoticed for how many – six – years?" She heard Damon ask behind her, and looked over her shoulder to the raven-haired agent. The displeased, almost angry expression painting his handsome features made her smile.

"Aliases are very powerful little things, aren't they?" The brunette chuckled as she moved further into her home.

"We knew all of your aliases, Elena," he cockily stated and followed closely behind. She thought she could see a faint smirk tugging on the corner of his lips, and rolled her eyes even though her back was turned to him and she knew he couldn't see her.

"Not all of them," she stated distractedly, deciding right now wasn't the best time to have that conversation.

As the pair moved through the apartment, nearing the living room with every step, Elena couldn't help but to close her eyes for a moment and – despite knowing otherwise – wishfully imagine Caroline sprawled across the white couch, watching some TV show. It would be incredibly relieving and amazing if the whole thing was just a big misunderstanding.

But it, of course, wasn't. The living room was pretty much deserted, though the big LCD screen was still playing. There was nothing out of ordinary, no matter how hard Elena tried to find it. The fluffy blanket was neatly folded at the foot of the couch, making the brunette believe her friend was taken late in the evening or very early in the morning since Caroline _always_ cleaned after herself before she retreated to her room.

Sighing dryly under her breath, she continued towards the kitchen, hesitating for a second before entering. The place was squeaky clean – just like Caroline always liked it. As her eyes swept over the white marble, something barely noticeable caught her eye. It was a black, _I love New York _printed, dirty mug in the sink.

Pulling on the rubber gloves Damon had provided for her earlier in the car, she went to pick it up to examine it better. It was definitely Caroline's. There was a fairly faint trace of the same pink lip-gloss she wore a few days ago when she came to visit her in prison, and the handle was on the right side – Caroline was right handed. But the most important thing: it was still dirty.

"This was where they drugged her." Elena gently caressed the mug before settling it back down. "I'm assuming it was chloroform," she said out loud to no one in particular, she was too distracted to even be fully aware of Damon's presence behind her.

"What? How the fuck did you manage to figure that out from a fucking mug?" His usually-velvety voice was laced with annoyance and frustration, and maybe even a little bit of awe.

"It's obvious, really." She rolled her eyes again – something she quickly found out was what she did frequently when Damon was around. Turning around, she elaborated. "Caroline is a neat-freak. She may not have the slightest idea about anything else in the kitchen, but she never leaves dirty dishes in the sink – of that, you can be sure." She waved in the air, motioning to the extremely clean apartment. "There is no evidence of any kind of struggle or resistance; therefore, Caroline was drugged and unconscious when she left the building," Elena let out slowly as if she was talking to a five-year-old, forgetting for a moment not everyone was as observant as she.

The way she spoke to him enraged and annoyed Damon immensely, but he willed himself to look past it for the sake of finding Caroline Forbes as soon as possible. "And what about the chloroform theory?"

"There's a napkin on the floor in the corner, but it's a wild guess, really." She cocked her eyebrow and looked over towards a small fabric. "I thought you said _your_ team scanned the place already?" She couldn't help but smirk cockily.

* * *

A little more than an hour later, a very frustrated Elena made her way back to the elevator where Damon decided to wait for her when he finally gave up on silently following her like a lost puppy. He looked displeased, utterly bored, and very out of place.

"There's nothing. Absolutely nothing! How is that possible?" She exclaimed when she spotted him waiting impatiently, her fingers running through her rich hair.

"Well, maybe your friend wasn't able to leave you any clues. You said it yourself she was drugged," he offered, but Elena didn't listen. He let out a frustrated sigh and crossed his arms over his muscular chest.

"No, no, no. There has to be something, there has to be something…" She started chanting, rubbing her temples in frustration. She wanted to find something – she needed to find something, anything.

Closing her eyes, Elena concentrated and quickly scanned over the apartment in her mind, imagining every little detail. She still couldn't find anything, and she wasn't pleased. Finally giving up, her eyes snapped open and settled on the figure a few feet away from her. He looked confused.

"Let's go to the office…" Damon started, but Elena didn't hear the rest as her eyes accidentally landed on the small, yet high, wooden table next to the elevator where they usually left their keys and mail.

There was nothing unusual about it if you didn't really pay attention. The silver keys of Caroline's Ferrari Enzo were still there as well as some unread mail, unpaid bills probably. But as Elena looked closely, she spotted the same pink stain as was on the mug on the top of one of the envelopes.

When she went to grab it, a voice drew her out of her thoughts. "Elena?" Damon called a little too loudly as he pressed the elevator button, making Elena believe it wasn't the first time he said her name.

"Wait," she murmured, not sparing him a glance.

She carefully picked the envelope up in her hands, turning it around a few times. A deep frown plastered on her face when she recognized the writing on the top, and her stomach turned. She knew it from way back, from when she still lived in Mystic Falls… It was an extremely unpleasant surprise, and she was almost afraid to open it. She thought she would never have to see that handwriting again.

Finally, the curiosity and worry for her best friend won over, and she tore it open, not noticing the puzzled look Damon shot her. "You are not seriously checking your mail right now, are you?" There was more shock in his voice than annoyance for the first time.

"Shut up," she dismissed him immediately and gulped, letting her eyes scan over the paper and elegant writing.

_You can run but you can't hide, Elena. You know I will always find you no matter where you are. It's a gift, really. _

_Now, imagine how disappointed I was when I learned my lovely niece was in prison and I wouldn't be able to see her again until she __got__ out in three years – I was devastated. But you know how impatient I am, don't you, Elena? _

_So, you see, I had to get your attention somehow__,__a__nd Caroline is even more beautiful than she used to be. I'm sure __she __and I will find _something_ to do while you're doing your best to find us. I'm truly looking forward to catching up with you. _

_Lots of love, _Uncle _John._

By the time she came to the end of the letter, her hands were shaking terribly, her heart was pounding so fast Elena thought it was going to burst out of her chest any second, and her breathing was heavy and extremely uneven. "This is bad. This is _really _bad," she informed Damon when she trusted herself enough to speak again.

"What? What is?" Now she had his full attention, and he forgot all about the elevator waiting for them and the office he was talking about earlier.

"I need you to show me the letter you received as soon as possible. We have to find Caroline, like, yesterday!" She rushed him, panicking slightly but not waiting for his reply.

She still couldn't process the information she just received. How was her uncle out of the prison? How did he find her? Why Caroline? Why now? The thoughts were swirling in her head, making it nearly impossible for Elena to think straight.

Her legs carried her into the elevator on their own, and she vaguely remembered she was still clutching the letter painfully in her hand. She faintly noticed Damon entering the metal space as well, but didn't really acknowledge him until he was standing only a few inches away from her, his hands on her shoulders, and his diamond-like eyes boring into hers.

"Elena!" He stressed loudly, making Elena blink. "You need to calm down. Now!" He all but ordered, shaking her lightly.

Taking a deep breath and collecting herself a bit, the brunette finally nodded in response. She couldn't help but to notice how deep and icy his orbs were. The most incredible shade of blue she'd ever seen – a lot like Caroline's, only lighter and richer. But they weren't just blue – not really, there were faint shades of grey and green in them as well. Imperfectly beautiful, she decided.

The much-too-loud ring of a bell signaling that the elevator arrived in the lobby, startled them, breaking the intense staring contest. Shifting awkwardly, Damon let his hand fall beside his lean figure and exited the small, stifling space. Elena followed shortly behind, not having the slightest idea of what the fuck just happened.

After a step or two, Damon slowed down and looked her over, pleased to see she had calmed down, at least a bit. "Now, tell me what you found. What's that?" He pointed at the paper in her hand, and she blinked, confused again, before shaking her head slightly as if to shoo away the frustration clouding her mind.

"It's a letter from Caroline's captor," she shakily responded, watching as his eyes widened slightly.

"Show me," he ordered, though his voice was uncharacteristically soft.

Having no choice really, she reluctantly let go of the paper and observed Damon's reaction as he read it over. She wasn't sure if he knew about her uncle or not, but she sure as hell wasn't going to tell him. By the frown on his forehead, she assumed he was aware.

"Your uncle is out? What? When?" He confirmed her suspicions.

Vaguely, Elena noticed there was a different guard standing next to the door – Finn must have quit or had been fired.

"I honestly have no idea, believe me." It was true. Elena didn't know he was out or how he got out, or even if he was supposed to be out already. It all seemed awfully unreal.

There was something else bothering Elena since the moment she learned it was John who had Caroline. She remembered Damon's words from when he came to visit her in prison. "How is John connected to the White Collar? He is most definitely not a conman." She wondered.

"No, he's not. The letter we received wasn't his; the handwriting is completely different, and we believe we've been trying to catch this same person for years now," he answered truthfully for which Elena was grateful.

"I need to see the letter. Do you have it on you?" Elena asked as they reached his car.

"No, we need to head to the Bureau." He stated, before he rounded the car and sunk into the comfortable leather.

* * *

This wasn't Elena's first time entering the FBI headquarters – something of which she wasn't exactly proud. There was the time when Damon smugly brought her in and locked her away for two fucking years, and three years before that when she absolutely needed to get rid of some evidence they had on Caroline – she couldn't risk her best friend's freedom, even though the risk of getting caught was enormous.

So, as she walked side by side with the man who took two years of her youth away from her, she didn't even bother to look for any changes in the place – she definitely wasn't curious about it. The whole building gave Elena the creeps – it probably had something to do with the fact that there were hundreds of agents scattered all over the place, ready to pounce on her the second she made one wrong move. It was extremely unpleasant, and Elena had to swallow down the urge to run.

When they arrived to his office, Elena let out a quiet breath of relief and plopped down on Damon's leather chair behind the black, wooden desk – just to piss him off, naturally. When he noticed, he mumbled something under his breath, but didn't seem to mind that much as he continued searching through his drawers. Meanwhile, this was her third visit at the Bureau; she'd never been to Damon's office before. Now that was something that spiked her interest.

Curiously, she let her eyes take in everything. It was clear he didn't like mixing his work with his private life – the office was extremely impersonal. There were no photos of his fiancée, his parents, or anyone really, the folders and papers were perfectly stacked at the end of the table, and the only personal thing was his dark blue mug with _Best Agent Ever _printed on it in white, bold letters.

"Here," Damon's voice pulled Elena from her thoughts, making her blink. Disoriented, she let her eyes fall on the plastic, transparent bag with an envelope in it he was holding in front of her.

Standing up, she snatched it out of his hand and tore the bag open, remembering why she was in his office in the first place. She felt slightly guilty for forgetting about everything, even if for just a split second.

Damon was right – the writing was definitely not John's. The person who wrote this letter was clearly left handed – the letters were slightly smeared, something that happened to Elena a lot as well – and it was almost positively a woman. The writing was extremely feminine, and there was a very faint and sweet trace of Dior's J'adore perfume.

Forgetting about _who_ wrote the letter for a moment, she focused on the words themselves instead.

_As much as it was incredibly satisfying to watch you rot in prison, my dear Elena, I'm afraid a common friend of ours wasn't as pleased to hear you were locked up. I'm sure you ha__ve__ figured out who our 'common friend' is by now, haven't you?_

_Now, don't get me wrong, I would love to watch you wither away in your cell__,__ but orders are orders__,__a__nd honestly, I think what your friend has in store for you is even sweeter than prison._

_Did you know there was a pretty expensive price on your head before you went to prison? It was a shame the tip was anonymous, wasn't it? Not that we needed the money, but still. It would be nice to have some sort of proof we were the reason your freedom was taken away from you so quickly, _Miss Pierce_._

_Are you feeling guilty yet for blaming dear ol' Elijah all these years?_

_Let the games begin, Elena._

"What the fuck is this?" Elena couldn't contain the anger as she threw the paper back onto the table.

"What is it? What did you find?" Damon cocked his eyebrow confused, reaching for the letter.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing. It doesn't give us any kind of information or clues; it just looks like someone had too much time on their hands. How are we supposed to find Caroline now?" She all but cried out, rubbing her temples.

Without waiting for his response, she drew her phone out of her pocket and took a picture of the letter, knowing she couldn't take the paper with her – it was, after all, evidence.

"What do you think you're doing?" He snapped, snatching the paper off the table and carefully putting it back in the bag. "You can't just take pictures! And where did you get the phone? Did you steal it?" He demanded, but she wasn't paying attention.

"It was a gift," she breathed out distractedly as she leaned against the wall, her eyebrows furrowed together. She had a lot of thinking to do.

"I have to go," Elena suddenly announced. "I'll be back," and with that, she pushed herself away from the wall and walked out of Damon's office, leaving him speechless behind.

It didn't take long before he was running after her, though. She was already halfway to the elevator when his fingers wrapped around her forearm and spun her around. Wide-eyed, she glanced to where his hand gripped her, and raised her eyebrow, challenging. "Do not touch me," her voice was low and deadly.

Damon immediately removed his hand, frowning. "Where are you going?" He asked, deciding to ignore her words. He was frustrated with the way she acted and spoke to him, she could see that. The other agents, and people in general, had a lot of respect for him, and so did Elena – he was, after all, the only agent to ever catch her – but she wasn't afraid of him. She wouldn't obey everything he said just because he was well respected. Besides, pissing him off was much more fun.

"I have some things to take care of," she simply stated, shrugging. When he didn't say anything, she groaned. "God, Damon. I'm just going to visit a friend. Can I do that? I'll be back, I promise!" She exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. She didn't need this right now – she needed peace and somewhere to think about the letters. Why couldn't he at least understand that?

"Well, excuse me, but your promise doesn't mean much to me, Elena." He lowered his voice, and Elena glanced around. They were in the middle of the floor with several curious agents scattered all over it.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Damon! If you want me to solve this, I need space and time. You can't just expect me to magically figure out everything for you. Besides, you will know where I am all the time. I'm wearing a tracking device, remember?" Elena murmured the last part under her breath loud enough for Damon to hear.

"Fine," he groaned, visibly displeased. "One hour."

* * *

Elena had always hated hospitals. Where ever her eyes landed, everything was white – walls, beds, curtains, even the fucking lights were blindingly white; and the whole building smelled strongly of disgusting food and hand disinfectant, but it was more than that. Her hatred wasn't just based on the whiteness of the place – it ran deeper than that.

There were too many times in her life that she found herself sitting in the uncomfortable chairs of various hospitals next to people she cared about. The most painful memory was of her father, usually a cheerful and loving man, covered in bandages and gauze after his truck ran off the bridge. She was only five when it happened, when her world was turned upside down and her father's heart gave up. The little girl lost her hero then, her role model.

So, when she entered the white hospital room, she couldn't help but to cry out silently at the sight of her friend. The memories of her father rushed back to her when her eyes landed on Klaus. There was barely any skin visible, and the bits that were, were covered in purple-yellow bruises and nasty red cuts.

And although he looked peacefully asleep, Elena knew that wasn't the case. He wasn't about to wake up any second and flash her that signature half-smile of his. Not yet…or maybe not ever.

Shaking her head as if to push the unwanted thoughts away, she moved further away from the door towards the small, uncomfortable, hospital bed. "Hey," she let out quietly, throwing her jacket on the chair as she moved closer to his frighteningly-still frame.

She took his left hand in her's, careful not to mess up any tubes. He was cold, and a shudder ran through her body. "I'm so sorry, Klaus."

"I know this is my fault, but I promise I'll fix it. I'll find Caroline and bring her back to you." She knew he couldn't hear her, but the words were really more for her benefit than his. She had to convince herself everything would turn out okay. The fact that this – Klaus comatose and Caroline God knew where – was all Elena's fault was killing her. If she couldn't find Caroline in time, the grief and self-loathing would kill her, she knew that much.

"I'll find her…" she repeated under her breath, her fingers gently playing with his hand. Elena knew it was pointless, but there was a small, unreasonable part of her which hoped for him to wake up. She could almost imagine the way he'd open his blue eyes and assure her everything would be okay.

A pang of disappointment rushed through her when nothing happened. With a loud sigh, she let go of his hand and plopped down on the fluffy chair. Folding her legs under her, she pulled out her phone and opened the picture of the letter she took at Damon's office. She hoped the picture would be enough for her to find something, figure something out. It was destroying her that she couldn't do something, anything.

The light buzz of her phone startled her, and she nearly dropped it. Frowning, she opened the text message and involuntarily let out a relieved sigh. The message was from Elijah, informing her she was relocated to a better hotel. Not a second later, the phone buzzed again, and when she read the next message, she scoffed loudly. Of course he would choose one of the most expensive hotels in New York.

Deciding not to text back, she concentrated on the letter again, reading the words out loud for the tenth time in the hour. The fact that the person who wrote it obviously knew she was Elena Gilbert, and yet still used her alias in the letter, confused and bothered her, but she didn't give it much thought.

When she finally gave up on the words, she focused on everything else. She could swear she had seen the same kind of paper somewhere before, yet her mind refused to remember it. The paper was baby pink, but there was no stamp, no label, nothing.

Frustrated, she shoved the phone back in her jacket and pulled it on, getting on her feet. She gently kissed Klaus on the cheek and promised to come back as soon as possible before she left the hospital in haste, realizing she was there a bit longer than Damon agreed on. A sly smirk played on her lips, and she secretly hoped he would get mad. She loved making him mad, making that blood flow through his body. He was too serious all the time, too collected and too stoic.

After hailing a cab, she let her mind wander to Elijah. Smiling, she decided she could take advantage of his sudden kindness as long as she was careful with what she shared with him… and with trusting him again. Quickly, she texted him if he could pick her up when she was done. The response came almost immediately: he agreed.

She paid the driver and got out, walking towards the Bureau. The way to Damon's office was quick since she all but ran all the way, trying to shake the uncomfortable feeling of being watched by so many cops. When she saw him, she forgot all about her discomfort and let that smirk fall on her face again. He was furious.

"Two fucking hours! I've been waiting for you here for two fucking hours!" He barked when the doors of his office closed behind her, even though the walls were glassed.

"Sorry, I lost track of time," she mockingly feigned embarrassment, her eyes innocently wide.

"Bullshit, Gilbert!" _Ooh, Gilbert again? _"I told you we are doing this my way! I swear, Elena, if you pull something like this again, you'll be back behind bars before you know it," he threatened, his eyes visibly darker than usual.

"You're sexy when you're angry, has anyone ever told you that?" She dismissed his warning as she rounded him, making sure her shoulder brushed against his as she went. He didn't move, but she felt him tense.

Without looking back, she plopped down on his black, leathered, office chair again and propped her legs on the table, almost knocking the mug off the surface. She let out a silent, "Oops," before crossing her arms across her chest.

Her eyes settled on his still-tense figure, observing the strong muscles of his back in awe. He sure was a fine man. She could see he was trying to not lash out completely, taking in a few deep breaths. Finally he turned around; his eyes lighter again.

"Did you find what you were looking for at the hospital?" He asked, showing her he knew exactly where she was.

"I need you to find out everything you can about the paper they used – where it's made, where they use it, etc.," the brunette said, playing with a lock of her hair.

"We already did that, but there was nothing suspicious about it. The only strange thing was that they use it in less than twenty companies in New York," Damon told her, going to stand against the window.

"That's good news," she murmured out loud, letting her hair fall back. "I need you to show me the list of the companies. I've seen the paper before; I just can't remember where," Elena let out.

He turned around with a surprised and even a bit suspicious look on his face, before he nodded and left the office, murmuring a, "Wait here," as he went. Shrugging, Elena let her head fall back as her eyes ran over the ceiling in boredom.

She thought about Andie for a moment, wondering if not telling Damon about her secret was really the best choice. It was their life after all; she had no right to stick her nose in where it clearly didn't belong, and it wasn't like she owed him or anything. In the end, she decided she would keep quiet for now.

When her neck began to hurt, she straightened up again just in time to see Damon enter the office again. "Here," he tossed a file on the table. "And get out of my chair," he ordered, his tone laced with annoyance.

Chuckling, she stood up and grabbed the brown file in her hands, her eyes scanning over the unfamiliar company names. Vaguely, she saw him settle down in his chair, but she didn't turn around. She almost gave up, but the last name on the list caught her attention. "_Love is Power_," she spoke out loud. "I've heard that before; it's a matchmaking agency. Caroline made me go there a few years ago," she murmured, her mind spinning with new questions. Every time she got an answer, a million new questions appeared, and it was driving her mad.

"What, you can't get a date by yourself?" Damon mused, his eyebrows raised mockingly.

"Do you really think I have a problem with finding men?" She shot back, not in the mood for his stupidity.

"Okay, okay! No need to get your panties in a twist," he sighed, standing up. He stalked towards her, leaning over her shoulder to see the file himself.

She could feel his presence behind her even if she didn't hear him sneak up on her – which she did – and a shudder ran through her body. She tried to focus on the words, but the nearness of his warm body and his hot breath on her neck did nothing to help her.

"Sage Smith," he read out loud from the file. "Does the name ring any bells?" It was clear this Sage wasn't the one the White Collar was looking for, which opened another box of questions for her.

"No, it doesn't." She moved away from him, closing the file and tossing it back on the table. Distractedly, she glanced at the clock in his office, surprised to see it was nearing five in the afternoon already.

"Look, I haven't eaten anything since morning, and I can't think straight when I'm hungry. I will ask around a bit, try to find out all I can about Sage – maybe someone on the streets knows something. You run her name through your database, check if her name pops up anywhere, and meet me at where I'm staying around eight," she let out tiredly, deliberately not telling him about the hotel to which Elijah had relocated her.

"Fine," he didn't sound too pleased but what could he do, really? There were no leads other than a name, which could not even be connected to the case, and he, too, was in need of a warm meal and maybe even an hour or so of sleep.

"Great," she said, and disappeared down the hall.

* * *

Elena shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket as she patiently waited for Elijah to pick her up. She texted him as soon as she left Damon's office, asking him for a ride to the hotel he had paid for since she didn't really have a car, and he most certainly did.

She didn't have to wait long before she spotted a black Audi R8 Spyder strolling down the street. It stopped a few feet away from where she was standing and lowered the windows. She knew it was him even before she could see him, so she already opened the door and got in, sinking into the soft leather.

* * *

**_Feedback is love!_**


	6. Something Pulls My Focus Out

**PLAYING WITH FIRE**

_**Chapter 5: Something Pulls My Focus Out**_

_by W. A. Ravensdale_

* * *

I think you're going to quite like the last part of this chapter ;). Enjoy!

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Diaries or any of its_ characters.**

Have I ever mentioned how fucking amazing my beta, **_RunningInAir_**, is? No? Well, she's pretty badass!

My twitter: **_WARavensdale_**

* * *

_"Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know." _

― Ernest Hemingway

* * *

"So… have you found anything about Caroline's whereabouts yet?" Elijah probed as soon as the doors of his car closed behind Elena. He sounded genuinely concerned, if not a little anxious.

"We may have some leads, yes," the brunette exhaled tiredly, gently rubbing her temples.

"_We?_" The brown-haired man cocked his eyebrows.

Another sigh left her lungs as she looked at him exasperatedly. "Yes, _we_, Elijah. As much as I dislike Salvatore and the FBI in general, the chances of me finding her are much better if I work with them; and besides, if it weren't for Damon, I would still be behind bars, helpless in finding Caroline." She didn't like him questioning her. He was nothing but an acquaintance to her now.

"You don't really trust him, do you?" He scoffed in disbelief, shaking his head. "Elena, I thought you were smarter than that…"

"What? I should trust _you_ instead?" The words left her mouth before she could stop them, but she didn't regret them, not really. He had no right to speak to her about trust.

Elijah said nothing in return. "And no, I don't trust him. I'm not a fool, you know," she added, determined, after a few moments of silence.

"Are you hungry?" He asked all of the sudden, turning to face her again.

Elena thought about it for a moment, not wanting to give him any ideas. Of course she was hungry, but she didn't want him to think things were getting back to how they were nearly a decade ago. On the other side, she felt guilty for treating him so horribly and not believing him when he promised her he wasn't the one who got her locked up. And maybe, just maybe, she did miss him a little…

"Sure," she finally said.

"Great. I know just the place," He smiled warmly, settling his eyes back on the road.

With a slight nod, Elena turned to look out the window, taking in all New York had to offer. The skyscrapers flew by, and a sad smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She would miss this once she would be sent back to prison. Damon made it clear that this – her freedom – was temporary. Soon, Caroline would be safe at home, and Elena would again share a cell with Rose, counting the days until she'd be able to move freely again.

The depressing thoughts disappeared once Elijah's car came to a stop in front of a small, cozy diner. "We're here," he announced.

"I can see that, yeah," Elena couldn't help but let out sarcastically. Elijah chuckled and got out, making the brunette roll her eyes before she silently followed.

She was surprised he brought her to such a simple place – she was sure he'd find the most expensive restaurant in the twenty-mile radius just to impress her, but he knew her better than that, which annoyed and warmed her heart at the same time.

He led them to a quiet booth at the back of the diner, sliding in on one side. She sat down opposite to him, picking up the menu. After a few moments, a young, chipper waitress came to their table, ready to take their orders. Elena settled on a simple burger – no pickles! – and a beer, while Elijah ordered blueberry pancakes and a glass of water.

"Why was Damon in your room that night, Elijah?" The brunette asked suddenly when the waitress left. He looked surprised, though she was sure he had to expect she would want to know sooner or later.

"I didn't call him, Elena…" he began, but she cut him off.

"No, I know that. I wasn't accusing you of anything, I'm just trying to figure out what happened," she explained quickly, letting him know she didn't blame him anymore.

"To be honest, I'm not certain. I was waiting for you when he appeared out of nowhere, telling me he knew you were coming and that he would send me to jail as well if I didn't cooperate. I tried to warn you, but he kept a close eye on me – there was nothing I could do. I can promise you that."

"I know I messed up in the past, Elena, but I would never do that to you, never," he assured, leaning forward, his eyes boring into hers as if to show her how honest he was with one intense look. She believed him, but she didn't want to… It would be so easy to just keep blaming him, ignoring the fact that there was someone out there after her – the same someone who now had Caroline imprisoned.

She was saved from responding when the waitress came back with their meals, and Elijah straightened up, clearing his throat. Elena politely thanked the girl and bit in her burger, almost moaning out loud - it was good! - and she was beyond hungry.

"Elena…" He trailed off when he saw her shaking her head furiously.

"No, stop, Elijah. We agreed we wouldn't talk about _that_ until we get Caroline back," she all but pleaded, hating herself for being so weak _again_.

He said nothing but nodded and resumed eating his pancakes. "But we will talk about it?" He couldn't help but ask hopefully.

She hesitated for a moment. "We will," she promised in the end, ending the discussion that was threatening to consume them both.

The rest of their meal went by in less awkward silence as they both enjoyed the delicious food. Elena made a mental note to come back again as soon as possible. She only hoped that would be before she went back to prison.

Elijah – ever the gentleman – paid for their meals and, before she knew it, they were in his car again, speeding towards the St. Regis hotel. It wasn't far away, and thankfully the traffic wasn't that bad. They made it there in a little less than fifteen minutes, and Elijah insisted on walking Elena to her room. She rolled her eyes at him but said nothing.

She wasn't all that surprised when she discovered he had put her in the Tiffany Suite, though she was thankful he didn't do something irrational and upgrade her to a Royal or Presidential Suite.

"Thank you," she turned to face him once they stopped in front of her room. She wasn't sure what she was thanking him for, it could be for the hotel or the dinner or maybe just for being there, but she wasn't ready to dive in that deep yet. Maybe she would never be, who knew.

He looked startled for a second before a warm smile spread across his face, and he nodded. "You are most welcome," he said, giving her a soft kiss on her cheek before walking away, still smiling.

Once he disappeared around the corner, Elena let out a loud sigh. What had she gotten herself into? Not wanting to dwell on it too much, she entered her new _home_.

* * *

It was luxurious, big, and very _blue_. She was used to residing in expensive hotels, and there wasn't really anything much different about this one than the others, though she usually paid for it with her own money. Elena couldn't wait to pay Elijah back every cent he had spent on her.

The fact that the walk-in closet was packed full with clothes her size didn't come as a shock to her, though she was angry with her former best friend for trying to buy her off – he should know better than that. Although, she was secretly glad she wouldn't have to wear these cheap, oversized clothes anymore.

After a quick scan of the suite, Elena called a few acquaintances and asked them if they knew of Sage, but either they lied or nobody really knew her. Sighing, she quickly disposed of her clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the warm water wash over her. Her muscles relaxed as soon as the spray hit her skin, and she moaned in pleasure. A warm, private shower was definitely the thing she missed the most in prison. Not that she was shy about her body, or minded sharing the shower with others, but it was still different.

Taking her time, she washed her hair and scrubbed every inch of her body before reluctantly turning the water off and stepping out of the shower. Still dripping wet, she brushed the clouded mirror with her hand and inspected her slightly blurry reflection. Displeased, she noticed she had lost some weight in prison – which was really understandable considering what kind of food she had to eat there.

The reason she didn't like losing weight was that with each pound she lost, the scars became more visible. They reminded her painfully of the years she spent in Mystic Falls, the years she spent under John's roof. A shudder ran through her body, and it wasn't just from the cold.

Suddenly, she vaguely heard someone furiously knocking on her door, and she jumped, startled. She just knew it was Damon. She could hardly believe it was past eight already. Snatching the fluffy, blue towel from the hanger, she wrapped herself in the soft fabric and went to open the doors, leaving a wet trail as she went.

She knew he would be infuriated with her once he learned she wasn't staying at the shithole he arranged for her anymore. Smirking, she opened the door, letting her wet hair fall over her shoulder.

"I was searching for you-" his words, however, died in his throat as he took in the sight of her. She knew what kind of effect she had on men, and he was no different, even if he had a fiancée waiting for him back home. The towel she was wrapped in left little to the imagination, and she saw his eyes involuntarily run across her body. Her smirk widened as his eyes darkened.

"Well, good evening to you too, Agent," she purred, running her fingers through the wet locks.

Her words seemed to draw him out of his ogling, and his angry eyes finally settled on hers. She noticed something was wrong with him, and it had nothing to do with her lack of clothing. "How the fuck did you get here?" He asked, though his voice was a little shaky, and she could see he tried hard not to let his eyes travel lower again.

"Why are you always mad at me?" Elena pouted innocently, opened the doors wider, motioning him to come inside.

"Because you're a fucking brat," he murmured under his breath, but entered the suite nonetheless. He sounded even crankier than usual, making Elena raise her eyebrow.

"Now, now, Damon, that's no way to speak to a lady," she beamed, following him to the living room.

"When I see one, I'll make sure to remember," he threw back, taking the place in. There was a visible grimace on his face – clearly, he was displeased.

She scoffed. "Make yourself at home. I'll be right back," she stated, and disappeared down the hall. She didn't really mind teasing him with her lack of clothing, but she was getting a bit cold, and the last thing she needed right now was to get sick.

Taking her time, she dried herself off with the towel and tied her still-wet hair in a messy bun before pulling out a pair of grey sweatpants she conveniently found at the back of the closet, and a white, V-neck tee. Barefooted, she walked back to where Damon was waiting for her. He looked deep in thought, she mused. He was sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees.

"A friend of mine leant me the money," she chirped, making her presence known. His eyes snapped at her as he looked at her puzzled. "The suite," she explained, and he nodded.

"Quite a friend you got there," he said bitterly as she went to grab something to drink.

"You know him, actually," she called from the mini-bar. A few seconds later, she appeared in the living room again with a bottle of bourbon in one hand and two, crystal tumblers in the other. "Bourbon?" She asked, raising the bottle.

"Sure," he shrugged, watching her as she settled on the opposite side of the couch. "And what do you mean I know him?" He probed, cocking his head to the side.

"Elijah Mikaelson. You know, the one I was meeting the night you so _rudely_ arrested me," she said, pouring two fingers of the amber liquid in each glass.

"Ah, such a nice evening, wasn't it?" He smirked, taking the offered tumbler from her hand. She shot him a death glare, and he chuckled, downing the alcohol in one long swallow. She couldn't help herself but to watch the muscles of his neck flex as she took a sip.

She noticed he looked much more tired than he did a few hours ago, but she didn't comment on it.

The sweet liquid burned down her throat, and she welcomed the feeling. "Did you find anything about Sage Smith?" She asked anxiously, hoping it wasn't a waste of time.

"Born on April 22, 1982 in Chicago, married and divorced, married again, no kids, she lives in Brooklyn with her husband. Other than a few speeding tickets, she has no criminal history," he recited. "You know, all this could just be a coincidence," offered Damon as he went to pour himself another glass of bourbon.

The brunette snorted. "I don't believe in coincidences."

"Her file is too ordinary, too perfect," she thought out loud.

"You would know," Damon sneered, leaning back against the soft cushions, closing his eyes.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she shrugged, her face perfectly masked. It was funny, actually. They both knew she was more than familiar with forging documents, creating new people, going by various different aliases, but he had no _proof_ of it. Not really. It was why she only got such a relatively short sentence. Of course, she was suspected of many great cons, thefts, forgeries, smugglings – the list could go on – but the only thing they could prove she was guilty of was bond forgery.

He chuckled dryly under his breath, slightly shaking his head. She couldn't help but notice how quickly he drank the refill as well, and she frowned. Something was bothering him, and she had a few ideas. Though she was sure it had nothing to do with work – no, it was domestic. Vaguely, her mind drifted to Andie, and she thought if maybe the bitch finally came clean, but she dismissed the idea immediately – he would look much worse if that was the case.

"Trouble in paradise?" She quipped, taking another sip of her drink. His eyes snapped open again, blazing angrily.

"That's none of your business, Gilbert," he spat icily.

"Actually, it is. I can't have you distracted right now. I'm not going to let your love life cost me the only chance of ever seeing my best friend again, _Salvatore_," she hissed back with just as much venom.

He sighed, pinching his nose. After a moment, he spoke again, his voice back to normal, though the tension was still rolling off him in waves. "I know, and it won't."

Forgetting all about her tumbler now, she snatched the bottle off the table and raised it to her lips. "What happened?" She asked tilting the bottle and letting her eyes fall closed as the liquid burned its way down her throat.

When she looked at him again, her eyes were a few shades darker. "The wedding is off," was all he stated, extending his hand to grab the bottle from her.

"Was it ever really on?" She murmured almost bitterly under her breath. She realized her mistake when he quirked his eyebrow in a half confused, half annoyed way.

"We were engaged, weren't we?" A small, barely-visible smirk tugged on her lips at his reflecting. Answering questions with questions, classic move.

"You were engaged for five years. If you two really wanted to get married, you would have already," she simply stated. When she first learned about Agent Salvatore, she tried to keep tabs on him, just to be careful, of course. It came as a surprise to her when she heard he had proposed to his girlfriend of a few months – she never really thought they would even stay together that long, if she was honest.

Even before she had met Andie Star, she didn't like the blonde. Not because she was with Damon, not even because she was a bloody reporter – she didn't like her because Andie caged her agent. As much as she hated him, hated having to hide all the time – she loved the chase, she loved seeing him frustrated and wild and angry with her; and after he popped the question, it seemed like the life was draining out of him – he wasn't lively and intense anymore, he became boring and fucking _polite_. Ugh. She missed the fierce, relentless, raw Damon.

"You really think so?" He asked tiredly, and her jaw hit the floor. Was he for real? Why wasn't he jumping and screaming at her for sticking her nose where it didn't belong, for insulting his relationship, for almost implying he didn't love his fiancée? This wasn't the Damon she was so fascinated with, that was for sure.

Well, it looked like she'd have to take a different approach. "Yeah, I mean, you're clearly not in love with her..." Her eyes peeked at him curiously while her face stayed completely cool, the mask she had grown to hate securely resting on her face. A ghost of a satisfied smile threatened to stretch on the corners of her lips when his eyes snapped to hers, blazing. She could practically see the blood boiling in his veins.

"What the fuck, Gilbert?" He snapped, his body tensing all over again as he jumped from the couch, glaring at her.

"Damon, why are you here?" She kept her voice calm, standing up as well. "If you were oh-so-madly in love with her, you would be fighting for her right now or maybe fucking her to oblivion, or fucking _while_ fighting." She wasn't even sure what she was trying to achieve here, really.

"What do you know about love?" He scoffed, shaking his head in what seemed very like disapproval, or was it maybe disappointment? Denial? Realization? Nope, it was definitely disapproval.

She shrugged, not even trying to fight him on that. She really didn't know much about love. She had never been in love, not really, but sometimes those who were fortunate enough to avoid those dreadful feelings knew more about it than those who actually claimed to be in love. It was amazing how much one could see, realize, and understand if he was only watching from the distance, observing but not actually experiencing it. After all, love made you blind, rash, and stupid.

"Not much, really," she smiled, "but I know you, more than you think actually, and I know you're not happy with Andie. Whether you love her or not, I don't know and don't really care, but you can't deny she makes you unhappy." The provocation was clear, and she could see he was fighting the urge to lash out.

"You're wrong," he groaned, clenching his jaw in what looked like a pretty painful grip.

"Am I? Look, I'm not trying to ruin your relationship here; I'm just telling you how I see it." Her voice was almost sympathetic, and she cringed at it, mentally rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, well, nobody asked for your input," he let out dryly, but his voice was not so deadly anymore.

"Oh, but I'm just that generous to give it freely," the brunette smirked, leaving the words hanging in the air for a moment.

A loud, tired sigh left his mouth as he plopped back down on the soft couch, running his fingers through that midnight hair. She wondered silently if she should tell him about his fiancée's dirty little secret. It would certainly be easier for him to find out now when he already doubted their relationship than later, when he felt everything was fine. It wasn't her place to tell, not really, but if she was him, she'd want to know. Definitely.

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her thoughts drifted to Caroline and how her words could affect this already-slow-going rescue. She hated herself for not finding her yet, for not knowing where her friend was, and if she was alright. Could she really risk losing her best friend just because she felt guilty? And what was with that anyway? She was a fucking con artist, a forger, a poser – why was she feeling guilty now?

No, she wouldn't say anything, at least not now, not yet.

"Why are you canceling the wedding?" She curiously probed instead as she sat down as well, folding her legs under her.

Damon chuckled darkly, taking another swig of the bottle. Elena vaguely noticed it was emptying pretty quickly.

"She needs some _space_," he spat out bitterly. She had to physically stop herself from rolling her eyes. _Space, my ass_!

"Did she say why?" She could never understand what 'I need some space' actually meant with women. Why the fuck would you need space from someone you claimed to love oh-so-much? If you were sick of them, space had nothing to do with it, for fuck's sake.

"Not really, but we've been fighting a lot for a while now. I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later," he shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, but it wasn't really working.

"Well, that sucks," she offered lamely. She definitely wasn't going to tip-toe around him now or pity him. Why would she? The man in front of her was practically a stranger to her – not really – she wasn't going to offer him comfort. Besides, she knew he didn't tell her so she would feel sorry for him.

"Tell me about it," he laughed coldly, twisting the bottle in his hand.

"What are you going to do?" She asked, knowing the house they lived in was Andie's – her parents' actually – so he was pretty much homeless at the moment.

"I don't know," he frowned. Clearly he hadn't given it much thought yet. "I'm probably going to crash at Lockwood's for a while or something," he shrugged tiredly.

"Well, you're more than welcome to stay here. There's an extra bedroom. Plus I don't think you should be driving anywhere tonight, anyways," she offered neutrally.

Her offer clearly surprised him, and he almost choked on his drink. Wide-eyed, he raised his eyebrow reluctantly. "You're offering to let me stay here, in your suite?" _Nope, I meant in the hallway, duh! Idiot._

"Yes, I am. What, are you scared you wouldn't be able to keep it in your pants?" She challenged, not sure why she really wanted him to stay, and she definitely didn't feel like finding out just now.

"Pft, dream on, Gilbert," he scoffed, his lips turning up in a teasing smirk. "Besides, I'm not the one who hasn't gotten any in over two years…" _Oh, that bastard! Well, two can play that game._

"How can you be so sure, _Agent_? There were many decent women in prison with me, you know, and the guards, oh the guards!" She cried out in a husky voice. His words were –unfortunately – true, she really hadn't been properly fucked in years, but she could still tease him a little, right?

At his comically-gaping face, she burst out in giggles. His expression was truly priceless – his jaw on the floor, and his eyes wide and colored in disbelief. "In _prison_? You're truly disgusting," he chuckled.

"What?" Elena exclaimed. "A girl has needs," she shamelessly defended herself.

Still shaking his head, he said, "Fine, but only if you promise you won't come crawling in my bed in the middle of the night, begging me to scratch that desperate ache between your legs." _Ha, like you would mind!_

"I'll try not to," she remarked sarcastically. "I have to warn you, though: I sleep naked." Her eyes twinkled mischievously in victory when his usually bright-blue eyes darkened.

"You're insane, you know that right?" He muttered under his breath, but she could see a faint smile threatening to tug on his inviting lips.

"Oh, you have no idea."

* * *

They spent the rest of their evening talking, teasing, but mostly discussing and plotting how to find Caroline. Elena had to admit – unwillingly – that he had some good ideas up his sleeve; but without them having any real leads, they weren't much good.

Around one in the morning, they finally decided they should continue where they left off in the morning as they were both barely still awake. Damon helped her dispose of the now-empty bottle, tumblers, and the carton pizza box which they ordered shortly after he agreed to stay.

After that, he informed her he had to get his duffel bag out of his car and disappeared through the doors. Sighing, the brunette turned off the lights in the living room, and made her way towards the bathroom.

When she was finished, she heard Damon moving subtly around the suite, and decided to see if he needed anything. Maybe a help with showering or changing his clothes…

She found him in the other bedroom, his black duffel bag on the bed as he was tossing some things aside, clearly looking for something. Leaning against the doorframe, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Everything okay?"

He jumped, startled, looking over his shoulder to her. "Yeah, I just can't find my toothbrush," he sighed, sitting down on the bed.

"There's one in your bathroom. It's a crappy, hotel toothbrush, but better than nothing, right?" She smiled, not sure what she was still doing there. She just came to check if he was okay.

"I guess so," he returned the smile, but it quickly turned into an amused smirk, and she cocked her eyebrow challengingly. "Didn't you say you sleep naked? I hope I'm not keeping you from that," he teased.

Huh.

She smirked herself. "Oh, you're not, don't worry. Actually…" she trailed off, tugging on the hem of her tee.

Slowly, she pulled it up, watching his amused smirk disappear as a mask of disbelief fell on his face. Not stopping, she yanked the shirt over her head, letting her hair fall back down over her shoulder. Hooking her thumbs behind the waistband of her sweatpants, she slid them down her legs in a painfully slow motion, her eyes never leaving his. She had nothing on under them.

She could see his sparkling eyes darken to almost black even though it was relatively murky in the room. Sensually, she let the strings of her bra loose and unhooked it, throwing it on the pile of her previously-discarded clothes on the floor. Now completely naked with the exception of a small necklace and a charm-bracelet, she propped her elbow against the doorframe, leaning on it. His eyes achingly ran over every part of her body, taking in all she had to offer. She could feel his gaze on her legs, going up and lingering on her breasts for a beat or two, before finally settling on hers again.

"Do you need anything else?" Her voice was husky yet collected, even though she didn't feel so composed herself. The pure hunger in his eyes was making it hard for her to stay cool, though it was most certainly very satisfying and flattering.

He shifted on the bed but said nothing – she made him speechless, she mused. "Okay then," she smiled.

"Sweet dreams." Turning on her heels, she left his room, adding some extra sway to her hips.

Before she disappeared completely, she heard him murmur under his breath, "Fuck."

The naked goddess chuckled, shaking her head a little, and went to her bedroom, closing the doors behind her. It was cold, so she quickly slid under the covers, desperately trying to forget the desired look in his eyes, even though it seemed to be permanently printed in her mind - but it was definitely worth it.

She knew she was screwed. She liked him, she craved him, and she desired him almost as badly as she desired a cup of coffee every morning. There was no denying she was insanely attracted to him, wanted him to ravish her in every way possible and use him – use him to make her feel good again, use his body to bring her the pleasure she'd been craving and knew he was capable, use his mind and connections to help her find her friend as soon as possible, and, possibly, use his heart in the process. But she didn't want to think of that.

Elena had never been one of those women who refused to acknowledge the obvious, who hid their attraction and fought it until it consumed them. No, she always knew what she wanted and went for it without a second thought. She embraced those feelings, using them to her own good. It was never fun to be alone, not by a long shot, but she also never let her feelings run deeper than just fondness or sexual attraction.

It was a little more complicated with Damon, though. Firstly, he had a fiancée – no, a _girlfriend_ – even though she was a total bitch. He may not love her the way he thought he did, but they were still together…kind of. Secondly, he was a fucking FBI agent – none else than the one who caught her, that was – and she was the infamous con-woman, for fuck's sake!

She stole paintings, art, gems for a living. She was a smuggler, an antiques dealer, an embezzler, a forger, and the list could go on forever. And he was a man of the law, the one who spent years chasing her, and in the end, bested her at her own game. Sure, he lusted over her, that much was obvious, but she drew the line at stealing boyfriends a long time ago.

Scoffing at her own stupidity and her traitorous body, she let the soft silk against her skin lull her to sleep. That night, she dreamed of eyes as deep as the ocean and as bright as the sky.

* * *

**_Feedback is love!_**


	7. Nothing In Life Comes Easy

**PLAYING WITH FIRE**

_**Chapter 6: Nothing In Life Comes Easy**_

_by W. A. Ravensdale_

* * *

So, another fun chapter to write, especially the last part ;) I really hope you enjoy it!

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Diaries or any of its characters._**

This would be so much worse if it weren't for my amazing beta, **_RunningInAir_**, so thanks! If there are any TMI fans reading this fic, I strongly suggest you to check out her one-shots!

My twitter: **_WARavensdale_**

* * *

_"Playing with fire is bad for those who burn themselves. For the rest of us, it is a very great pleasure."_

* * *

An incredibly annoying beeping drew Elena from her slightly-erotic dreams, and she groaned into the pillow, ready to murder anyone who dared to tear her away from her sleep so early. It must have still been in the middle of the night, because Elena could swear she had just closed her eyes. Mornings always came way too soon. It wasn't fair, really!

It had been three days since the first night she stayed at the hotel, but the bed was still unreasonably comfortable. She wished Caroline could be there with her.

Elena and Agent Salvatore were still desperately trying to find her friend, but with each day that passed, the awful feeling at the pit of her stomach only grew. She knew there was something she should know, something she must have overlooked, but no matter how many times they went over every single detail and every piece of evidence, there was nothing either of them could find. They searched almost every warehouse in the area, every abandoned building; they even went as far as going undercover in Sage's agency, pretending to be young, desperate individuals looking for some love.

Damon was still staying with her, and they actually managed to tolerate each other. Of course, she still pissed him off at every chance she got, but even she had to admit they worked well together. There were no further 'naked' incidents (which Elena blamed on all the bourbon they consumed that night), but the mild flirting – mostly on Elena's part – and the constant banter were still there. They even discovered they had something in common – they both drank way too much alcohol for their own good.

She was actually having fun with him around – something she would never admit out loud, but she was growing tired of always having to think before saying anything. He was still an FBI agent, and she was still a criminal. One wrong word and she'd be in prison forever. And she still didn't trust him, not by a long shot.

Oh, well.

Groggily, she opened her eyes, blinking a few times to adjust her eyes to the brightness of her room. Well, it looked like it wasn't that early after all. If sleep really was for the weak, as many put it, then Elena was the weakest person on the planet. She could, literally, sleep all day. It was true that she loved being productive, but at the same time, her perfect day was lying in bed all day, reading a book or watching one of the oh-so-many TV shows to which she was practically addicted.

Unfortunately, today could not be that day as the continuous beeping cruelly reminded her. With one hand still under her fluffy pillow, she reached for her phone on the nightstand with the other, vaguely noticing it was a few minutes before nine already. Elijah's name flashed on the screen again, and she pressed answer, dimly wondering why he was calling her so early.

"Morning," she mumbled sleepily.

"I take it you're satisfied with the suite, then?" The British bastard probed cheekily, making Elena groan silently.

"Mhm," she growled. "Is there any particular reason for waking me up, or are you just being your usual pain in the ass?" Her voice was hoarse and husky.

A low chuckle could be heard over the phone, and Elena could practically see him shaking his head in amusement. "Actually, I was calling to tell you Klaus woke up a few hours ago," he said, and she immediately sat up in her bed, a wide smile plastered on her face. No wonder he was all chipper.

"Really?" She all but squealed at the great news. "Is he okay? When can I see him?" She asked eagerly.

"Yes, he's fine. Still recovering, of course, but the doctors say he was lucky," he explained. "He's sleeping right now, but I think you can come later in the afternoon. I'll go with you, if you want," he offered. It had been three days since they last saw each other, and she really didn't want to go there alone again. The place gave her some serious creeps.

"Yeah, sure. I'll call you?" Rubbing her eyes, she swung her legs over the edge of the super cozy bed, and cringed when her feet hit the cold floor.

"Alright," he said. "Listen, I have a business meeting right now so I have to go. Ta-ta," and with that, the line went dead.

Elena frowned, realizing she didn't even know what exactly Elijah did for a living. Sure, he had taught her almost everything she knew, from forging documents to recognizing fakes, but there was a possibility he had a real job now, right? He was smart, but then so was she, and she didn't even think about leaving her criminal years behind. Shrugging, she decided she would ask him later.

Elena stretched her arms and legs, arched her back, and let out a loud yawn. She took her time under the warm spray of water, shaving her legs and washing her hair. It wasn't until almost an hour later when she finally emerged from the bathroom, clad in only a silky, black robe, her hair now dry, falling gracefully over her shoulders.

The delicious smell of pancakes invaded her nostrils as soon as she moved further into the suite, and her stomach grumbled in anticipation. She really hoped Damon wasn't a selfish prick again and, unlike the first morning, ordered some breakfast for her as well. A satisfied smirk played on her lips when she noticed a tray full of food, a card tucked beneath it, and Damon nowhere to be seen.

Curious, she picked the card up and frowned at the words.

_Enjoy your breakfast, Pierce._

There was nothing else written there, and she scoffed. She searched the suite for any sign of Damon – even looking in his bathroom – but she couldn't find him anywhere. She was pretty sure he wouldn't screw with her like that, especially not using the alias he didn't even know about. _Fuck._

Deciding there was no way she'd eat the breakfast, especially if it was really from Caroline's captor, she picked up her phone and called Damon's number. It sent her straight to voicemail, and she let out a frustrated groan. Where the fuck was he?

Quickly dressing in a pair of white, skinny jeans, a black shirt, and a pair of black high heels, she exited the suite, hunger long forgotten. She hailed herself a cab, twisting a lock of her hair in her fingers, and hoped the bastard was at the office or she'd make him sorry for disappearing like that.

When the cab finally arrived to the FBI headquarters, she all but bolted out of the small car and made her way towards the elevator. Unfortunately for her, Agent Bennett decided to came to work just then, and the poor brunette was forced to spend the whole ride up with the unpleasant agent.

A silent sigh of relief escaped her lips when the elevator came to a stop, and she escaped the uncomfortable glares the other woman was sending her, walking towards Damon's office in a fast pace. She found him, but he wasn't alone. There was a man, probably in his mid-thirties with sandy blond hair and grey eyes, and a slight stubble coloring his chin. The authority was rolling off him in waves, and Elena realized the man must have been Damon's respected boss, Alaric Saltzman. There was a friendly, comfortable air surrounding them, making her believe the two men got along pretty well.

"Hey," she smiled charmingly, making her presence known.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Damon roll his eyes at her antics, but she didn't pay him attention, instead she stayed focused on the other man who just chuckled when his eyes fell upon her.

"Ah, the infamous Miss Gilbert, we finally meet," he said with a warm smile, walking towards her.

"I see my reputation precedes me, and please, call me Elena," she replied, shaking his hand. "It's a great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Saltzman." She already liked the guy. He could be a total ass to her, he could act like she was trash, like most agents – ekhm, Salvatore, ekhm – did but he didn't; he was polite, and without prejudice, that much she could see right away.

"Alaric," he waved his hand, turning around to face Damon. "She's not _that_ bad," he laughed, making Elena's lips twitch in an amused smile.

"Well, thank you, sir," she stated, pleased, sending the raven-haired man a glare. Shaking his head, Alaric picked up a white folder off the table and walked out of the office, but not before he sent Elena another one of his light smiles.

"I like him," she stated when she was left alone with Salvatore, who just nodded but said nothing in return.

Sighing, the brunette handed him the plastic bag with the card she found next to her breakfast. "I'm guessing you weren't the one who ordered me breakfast," she said tiredly.

He took the transparent bag from her, inspecting it carefully. She noticed the way his muscles tensed, and his jaw clenched. "Who's Pierce, Gilbert," he demanded. It was the second time that this particular alias was used in one of the letters, and she knew he would want to know about it sooner or later.

"Katherine Pierce is one of my aliases. You haven't heard of it, because it was used only for purchasing our apartment," she shared with him against her better judgment.

Without a word, he moved towards the doors and opened them. "Lockwood, come here," he called, and after a few moments handed him the bag. "Take this to the lab, please, and ask them to search for prints, will you?" With a nod, the younger agent took the object and disappeared from view.

"At the risk of sounding like an overly-attached girlfriend, where were you this morning?" She asked, plopping down on one of the chairs in front of his table, vaguely noticing they weren't half as comfortable as his office chair.

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that. I had to go back to the house before work when I knew Andie wouldn't be there," he sighed. "I had to grab some stuff."

Elena nodded in return. "So, I take it there has been no improvement in that area?" She probed, crossing her legs. She knew this whole thing had affected him much more than he was showing – he was even sporting a stubble for God's sake, not that she minded. Not at all.

He let out a loud sigh, running his hand over his face. "I'm meeting her later for a late lunch," he told her, sitting down on his chair, his shoulders slumping.

"Well, that's great! Maybe she's had her space now, and everything will go back to normal," she offered. _Maybe I can stop lusting over you then, huh?_ She added in her mind. She was only a woman for fuck's sake, and even a deaf-mute-blind woman would be lying if she said this guy wasn't like a Greek sculpture.

"Yeah, maybe," though he didn't sound all that sure – or all that devastated, she noticed. But it was understandable, really. If they truly did have as many issues as he claimed, then his lack of emotion was quite reasonable.

"Hey, can you drop me off at the hospital while you're at it, pretty please?" She flashed him the sweetest smile she could muster.

"Yeah, sure. Are you going to see Klaus? I heard he woke up." For a moment, she wondered how the hell he knew that, but dismissed the confusion right away – of course the FBI would tell the doctors to inform them so they could question him as soon as he woke up.

"Mhm," was all she said in return before they heard a knock on his door, and Agent Lockwood's head popped in.

"The only fingerprints on the card were Gilbert's, sir," he informed somberly, making Elena curse under her breath. She really had hoped the people responsible for Caroline's abduction – her uncle mostly – would become sloppy and reckless.

"Damn it," Damon swore, slamming his hand on the desk.

"Sorry, sir," Lockwood flinched uncomfortably.

"It's okay. Thank you, Tyler," Damon said in a softer tone, dismissing the younger agent with a wave of his hand.

Without a word, Salvatore strode to the window, running a hand through his hair. "Who the fuck are we dealing with here?" He murmured, tension rolling off him in waves.

"You do understand we are probably not going to find Caroline before my uncle decides I've suffered enough, right?" She had to ask. This had been crystal clear to Elena the moment she learned about who had her best friend, even though she didn't want to admit it right away.

"Then why the fuck are we trying so hard to find her?" He groaned, spinning around. "We're just wasting our time!"

"Because maybe, just maybe, we can find her before that and change the rules of this game," she explained, understanding his frustration. "Damon, this has all been planned to perfection. There are people, very smart people, behind this kidnapping, and they are doing it because they like to watch me squirm. I am the reason my uncle has spent nearly ten years in prison; he's making me pay for it now, the only way he can. After we get Caroline back – hopefully in one piece – then it's just me against him. He will come for me - it's just a matter of time." Did he really not understand that? Was he really that foolish to think they would just catch them like any other criminals and everything would be over?

"If you ask me, it will take him eight days to make his next move – that was how long I left him waiting, dreading, before the cops showed up." She shrugged like this whole thing wasn't affecting her at all. "And considering it has been six days already, we won't have to wait that much longer."

"Tell me what happened with your uncle," he said suddenly, his voice much softer than she was used to, and she cringed. Her uncle and the years she spent in Mystic Falls were definitely not something she liked to talk about, especially not with people she didn't trust.

"You know what happened. You read the report and my file," she stated, knowing very well he knew pretty much everything about her life before the Big Apple.

"I did," he nodded, "but I want you to tell me again."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I don't feel comfortable discussing that particular subject with you right now – or ever," she shot back, her voice colder than necessary.

He didn't say anything in return, just nodded in understanding.

They spent the next couple of hours researching, going through John's files, and talking about all the other possible locations of where they could be keeping Caroline. Somewhere between plotting and planning, Elena's body finally realized she hadn't gotten anything to eat yet, and the sweet, blond agent – Donavan was it? – was kind enough to fetch her something from the restaurant across the street. She even gave him a peck on the cheek as a thank you. The disapproving, and very annoyed, glare Salvatore was sending her didn't go unnoticed, making her smirk.

It was a little past five when Damon informed her they would be leaving soon, considering he was meeting his ex-fiancée-girlfriend-whatever at six on the other side of the city. He dropped her off in front of the hospital, where Elijah was already waiting for her.

"Hey," she greeted him nervously.

"Hello," he smiled in return. "You ready?"

"Sure," she stated truthfully, already walking towards the entrance.

Seeing Klaus awake and not lying still like some corpse was the highlight of Elena's week. He still looked tired, all covered in bandages and gauze, but at least he was sitting up again. At least he would survive.

"Klaus," she exclaimed the second she saw him, her voice laced with relief and affection.

"Hey, little one," he chuckled hoarsely. "How've you been?" Klaus asked, and she almost cried out. He was the one lying in a hospital, fighting for his life, and yet he still managed to care about her as well.

"I don't know, honestly," she whispered, throwing her arms around his neck, careful not to hug him too tight.

"I'll leave you two alone," they both heard Elijah announce behind them before the doors closed with a soft click.

After a few moments, she finally let go of his fragile form and sat down on the chair next to his bed, taking his arm into hers. "Where's Caroline, Elena?" He finally asked, his voice uncharacteristically shaky.

She told him everything, from Damon's visit in prison to the card she received this morning, and he listened through it all, gripping her hand. They talked, cried, and prayed – even though they didn't believe in God. He explained to her every detail of that evening – at least the parts that he remembered. Unfortunately, he didn't see anyone who could have done this to him, but hearing him speak about the panic washing over him and the fear he experienced was pretty intense.

An hour or two later, Elijah joined them and they talked some more. They talked about everything and anything, but the main topic was still Caroline and how to get her back. They went through every possibility a couple of times, but eventually resorted to less stressful conversations. It wasn't good for Klaus to worry so much right now when he was still weak and healing.

It wasn't until eight or so when the nurse came in, informing them it was the end of visitor hours, and that Klaus had to rest now. After a quick goodbye and a promise to come back soon, Elena and Elijah left his room, giving him the rest he needed.

"What exactly is it that you do?" The brunette found herself asking as they walked towards Elijah's car.

He stayed quiet for quite some time, and she was already beginning to question if he would answer at all, when his voice startled her. "I'm a lawyer," he told her just before they got in his car.

She gaped at him for a moment, her mouth hanging open before she just burst out laughing. "Are you serious? You used to hate lawyers!" She shrieked, remembering very well just how much the British man used to despise lawyers. His father was sent to prison though he had been completely innocent, and Elijah sincerely believed it was the lawyer's – Mr. Collins, was it? – fault.

"That was a long time ago, Elena," he sighed as he opened the doors and sat down. Elena joined him, still smiling.

"This is so weird," she let out.

It amused her how much the man beside her had changed through the years, though it bothered her as well. Of course, she didn't want him to change back to that cruel guy he used to be at the end of their friendship, but it was sad to see how much his perspective on life had changed. His beliefs and values were completely different now, and she felt like she really didn't know him anymore. She missed the silly, incredibly intelligent boy she knew back then; not the polite, grown-up man he was now. Could she really start a friendship with this man again even though he was a completely different person?

What she really hated, though, was how hard it was to be around him – around someone she had once trusted unconditionally, but now couldn't even share a simple secret with. Trust for Elena had always been something she had trouble giving, and she seriously doubted she could ever trust him again. She dreaded the conversation they were bound to have sooner or later.

"So… do you want to go eat something or…?" He asked all of the sudden, drawing Elena out of her thoughts.

"Huh? No, actually, I better get back to the hotel," she mumbled, biting her lip. She hadn't told Elijah about Damon staying with her yet, considering how much he seemed to dislike the agent.

"Oh, come on! You've been cooped up alone in that suite every night for the past few days," he accused, smiling.

"How do you know I've been alone?" She challenged, a sly smirk tugging on her lips. He raised his eyebrow.

"What, do you have a man I don't know about?" He said it like it would be outrageous, like she was incapable of finding a man, and she scoffed loudly.

"Not exactly," she shrugged, not really caring now if he would approve or not. "Damon has been staying with me," she said with a smirk, knowing it would piss him off. Serves him well, who did he think he was for questioning her charm?

"Beg your pardon?" His face changed from smiling to stoic in a matter of seconds.

"You heard me alright; Agent Salvatore – you know the sexy, blue-eyed devil – is staying with me in the suite _you _are paying for." _Oh, Elijah, who did you think you were talking to? You're not the only one who's changed. _"Although, he still insists on sleeping in separate beds. Oh, well, he'll come around." She knew she was going too far; it was wrong to put this pent up frustration on him – he really didn't do anything wrong as of late – but Elena's inner bitch was having a bad day, or so it seemed.

His knuckles visible paled from gripping the steering wheel so hard, though his face stayed indifferent. She learned that from him, actually, like she did most things. He taught her how to read people, how to fake emotions, how to stay emotionally detached – even if he didn't know that.

"Well, that's… unexpected," he finally uttered. "You used to be smarter, you know," he continued. "You used to know who to trust."

"Yeah, and look where that got me, huh? The one I trusted the _most_ basically told me I was a burden to him, told me to, and I quote, 'Fuck off, because you're an immature brat who sticks her nose where it doesn't belong.' Do you even realize how much trusting you cost me? I didn't just lose my best friend then, Elijah, I lost a part of me – the part of me that was able to actually share my feelings, the part of me that let others see the real me. Now? Now people see what I _want_ them to see, people know as much about me as I _want_ them to know. So, for fuck's sake, stop lecturing me about trust." Her words were so cold, so emotionless, and he cringed, his eyes saddening.

"Elena-" he began but changed his mind, shaking his head.

"Nope, I don't want to hear about it, really. You can drop me off here. I'll walk," she said, raising her eyebrows, challenging. If he thought jumping out of the car was past her, then he had another thing coming.

Sighing, Elijah reluctantly drove to the side and stopped the car, knowing better than to try to make her stay. "You don't have to walk. Come on, I'll drive you to the hotel," he offered, running his fingers through his short, brown hair.

"I'll walk," she stated again, already opening the doors, and left without a goodbye. Well, there went a drama-free evening, huh?

Luckily for her, she was just a couple of blocks away from the hotel, even though she had to admit the fresh air would definitely calm her down. As she started walking, her mind ran wild. Was she too harsh? They did agree to not speak about what happened until after they found Caroline, but this forced normality they had going on was getting on Elena's nerves. It just wasn't that simple, and no matter how much she wasn't ready for _that_ conversation yet, they were really just prolonging the inevitable.

She spotted a small diner just around the corner of the hotel, and decided she was hungry after all. Picking up something for Damon as well – she didn't want to be as selfish as the bastard was when ordering breakfast the other day – she walked the short distance to the hotel with a bag of fresh pastries in one hand, and two cups of steamy coffee in the other.

She stopped at the reception desk for a moment, asking if they knew who it was that had sent her the card that morning, but either they lied or they really didn't know. Sighing, she made her way towards the room. She wondered if Salvatore had already come back from his late lunch with his… whatever Andie was now. With her hands full, she had some trouble opening the doors, but managed in the end.

The first thing she noticed was the light coming from the living room area and the sweet, strong smell of alcohol hitting her nostrils. Well, it seemed like he was back after all.

"Salvatore?" She called, a bit of annoyance lacing her voice. If the bastard got drunk and threw up anywhere but the bathroom, she was going to make him very sorry.

Rolling her eyes at his lack of response, she walked further into the suite, finding him sprawled on the couch with a bottle of bourbon in his hand. His hair was tussled and messy as if he had run his fingers through it a couple of times already. "Damon?" She asked again, dropping the bag and the coffees on the table.

He raised his head, and his glassy eyes focused on her, a small frown painting his features. She noticed the bottle was almost empty and let out a frustrated sigh. "So, I guess your date didn't go that well, huh?"

He attempted to snort, but a hiccup interrupted him, and he chuckled instead, shaking his head. "What? No, it went great actually, can't you see?" He let out sarcastically, raising the bottle to indicate just how well his evening had gone. "What are you doing here, anyway?" He asked, narrowing his eyes in confusion.

"Well, I kind of live here, remember?" For fuck's sake, she didn't sign up for taking care of a drunk, depressed man – especially not tonight after her not-so-great evening.

His lips turned in a 'O' as he nodded, smirking. "Oh, right! I've been living with a criminal, haven't I?" He chuckled again. "Well, at least you're hot," he said but frowned again. "You're hotter than Andie." Another hiccup.

She rolled her eyes and walked towards him. "I'll take that as a compliment," she smirked, holding out her hand. "Come on, drunkie. Let's get you to bed." She helped him get up, her knees almost buckling under his weight. "You're fat," she remarked, huffing.

"I am not!" The raven-haired man gasped, pointing a finger at her. "I have heavy bones, I'll have you know."

Elena laughed. "Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night."

Damon leaned his head against her neck, and inhaled deeply. "You smell nice." Her heart fluttered, but she dismissed it quickly, instead focusing on how to get him to his bedroom. He really was one heavy son of a bitch – sorry Mamma Salvatore!

She couldn't wait to tease him about this whole thing in the morning; it was going to be so much fun! They were almost in the middle of the narrow hallway, when he suddenly stumbled and crashed her against the wall, hard. She huffed, but he didn't move; instead, he pressed his body against her's – either to balance himself or something else, she wasn't sure. She gasped silently. Nope, this was not good. Not at all!

His nose was still buried in her neck, and his hands slid down her sides and settled on her hips, pushing her further into the solid wall. He backed away an inch or so, his face now coming in front of hers. His lazy, half-closed eyes searched her wide-eyed brown orbs. Leaning down, he hovered his lips over hers, and she could feel the warm breath on her skin, smell the alcohol in his breath.

"I'm going to kiss you now," he slurred, his hands gripping her hips, and closed the small gap between their lips.

Even though he did warn her, his actions came as a big surprise to Elena, and she didn't know what to do for a few seconds. It was all so tempting, and everyone who knew Elena, knew she wasn't the one to do the right thing. She went after what she wanted, used who she had to, and never felt remorse. That was probably why she let him kiss her, why she kissed him back hungrily, her fingers twisting in his messy hair as she pulled him closer. His lips were so soft, his kiss so full of desire, and his hands snuck around her back and grasped her ass roughly. The bastard was too drunk to walk, but still sober enough to feel her up, she mused distractedly.

That single thought was enough to crack the chemistry, and reality came crushing down around her. She was kissing a taken man, something she swore she would never do – even if he and Andie were on a break or whatever was going on between them, she would and could never be the other woman. So, she roughly pulled his hair, tearing his lips away from hers.

"We are so not doing this when you're drunk off your ass." She smiled at his swollen lips and ragged breathing. He pouted; he actually pouted at her, his bottom lip turning outwards and all that!

"You know you want to," he groaned, closing his tired eyes.

"Not when you can pass out on me any second, no. Tell you what, if you're still up for it in the morning, I'll be more than happy to assist," she said, satisfied with her answer. "Now, walk, or I'll leave you here in the middle of the hallway. You know I will," she threatened teasingly, pleased when he nodded.

After what felt like a lifetime, she finally managed to half-carry, half-drag him to his bedroom, and practically threw him on his bed. He groaned in protest when his head bounced off the bed a few times, before he lazily propped himself on his elbows, and fuck did he look fuck-able!

"Are you going to undress me now?" The bastard still managed to smirk, blinking a few times.

She shook her head in amusement, already imagining how fun it would be the next morning while she pulled off his shoes. "No, Salvatore, not today." _What a pity. _"I can promise you, though, that you'll be begging me for it soon enough." Oh, how she couldn't wait for that. She loved when they begged!

"You're no fun," he slurred, plopping back.

"Oh, I'm lots of fun, you'll see." Damn she was going to need a long, cold shower after their little tryst.

When she was sure he was at least semi-comfortable, she turned around and walked towards the door. Turning off the light, she heard him call behind her, "Hey, where are you going!"

Laughing, she shook her head. "Salvatore, if I stay with you tonight, you're going to have a heart attack in the morning when you wake up; and sadly, I still need you to find my friend so…" He was all sorts of fun when he was drunk, and if she wasn't such a pathetic, _honorable_ – yeah, right! – human being, she could find out how fun exactly. "Goodnight," she said instead, closing the doors behind her.

* * *

**_Feedback is love!_**


	8. Silly Things

**PLAYING WITH FIRE**

_**Chapter 7: Silly Things**_

_by W. A. Ravensdale_

* * *

I know this chapter is quite random, but I honestly thought this fic was lacking some action. For those who watch Arrow, you'll surely notice a few similarities as well! Enjoy and please leave me some delicious feedback! I'm really sorry for not replying to your reviews for the last chapter!

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Diaries or any of its characters.**_

As always, a big thank you goes to **_RunningInAir_**, my brilliant beta! You should totally check her stories out!

Also, **_DamonGotTheGirl _**is back with her story, **_You've Left Me Incomplete_**, after what felt like forever so make sure to check it out as well!

My twitter: _**WARavensdale**_

* * *

Elena could feel his gaze on her naked back even before she heard him shift at the doorframe, though she wasn't sure what he was waiting for. It was crazy, but she could swear his intense stare woke her up from her deep slumber. She was still in bed, facing away from him. Keeping her eyes closed, she let a sly smirk sneak on her lips. The covers were loosely sprawled on the bed, reaching to her lower back. It was an extremely cold morning, and goose-bumps erupted on her skin.

She wondered if he remembered last night, their heated make-out session, and his slurred words. She wasn't sure if she wanted him to remember or not – it would definitely bring her immense pleasure to taunt him with it; but maybe if he didn't remember, she, too, could convince herself it didn't happen. As much as she enjoyed having him there, she also secretly regretted offering to let him stay with her – the temptation was almost too much, and Elena was always the one to give in.

A slight frown ghosted over her forehead as she waited for him to move, to do anything. She didn't feel self-conscious, far from that, but he was changing the unwritten rules of their game, and that didn't sit well with her. He was supposed to be the one running away from her, not watching her sleep.

Oh, well.

"Join me, or get the fuck out. I'm trying to sleep here," she murmured sleepily, making him know she was awake – if he didn't know already.

"I thought you were sleeping," he said, almost annoyed.

"Well, I was until you decided to go all creepy-stalker on me," she replied, her voice muffled by the pillow. "But, I'm dead serious. Either crawl under the covers, or fuck off."

"Aren't you cheerful this morning?" He chuckled sarcastically but didn't move. When she realized he had no intentions on leaving her alone, she groaned loudly into the soft pillow.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," she murmured, turning around, not caring if the only thing covering her lower part was a thin, silky cover. "What do you want, Salvatore? Despite the obvious, of course." She smiled sweetly.

He was certainly a sight for sore eyes: clad in only the jeans from last night, hanging loosely on his hips, and tussled hair. The early morning sun made his incredibly blue eyes shine brightly, like diamonds, and he looked utterly eatable. He had his muscular arms crossed over his broad chest, and his delicious upper body completely on display as he was leaning against the door frame.

"I'm taking you up on your offer of hot, morning sex," he let out huskily. _Oh, so he did remember. Damn it! _

Elena remembered telling him that, if he was still up for it, he could come back in the morning when he was sober; though honestly, she wasn't sure if he was completely sober right now – he definitely wasn't acting like himself.

"Sorry, I don't sleep with taken men." She already regretted her words from last night, but she had to say something, right? "No matter how tempting the offer is," she couldn't help but flirt back.

At her words, his mood seemed to darken. "Well, good thing I'm not taken any more then, huh?" He spat out bitterly.

She knew better than to ask him what happened, not wanting to upset him. "I'm sorry," she said instead, her voice sincere. The revelation didn't exactly come as a shock for her, she assumed as much last night.

"Yeah, well, life sucks," he stated, shrugging like it didn't affect him, but she could see he was anything but indifferent about it. Sometimes, she hated how well she could read people – it would be so much easier if she was completely oblivious to the pain behind those beautiful blue eyes, or just simply didn't care. Which she didn't. Nope, she was just intrigued – and she would keep telling herself that until she was certain it was true.

"Go order some breakfast – and for me too this time! – and I'll join you in a minute," she finally sighed.

"Oh, come on! I need a distraction." He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows. Despite hating the fact that the situation between them had gotten out of her hands, she had to admit she kind of liked this playful Damon.

"Not in the mood, sorry," she smiled back, not lying completely – she wouldn't let anything more happen between them until she knew he was positively single.

"I thought you were always in the mood," he teased, making her chuckle under her breath.

"Go order some food. I'm hungry." It was time to get up and face the new day. Oh, how she didn't want to do that.

With a chuckle of his own, he shook his head and left her doorway, leaving the naked brunette alone. Sighing, she dragged herself out of the soft bed and made her way towards the bathroom. After a quick shower, she brushed her teeth and quickly pulled on a pair of black leggings, a baggy, white, button-down shirt, and ankle boots. She vaguely realized it was getting colder with each day, and that it probably wasn't entirely okay to wear such light clothes with the end of September quickly approaching. Knowing her days of freedom were limited, and that she would soon be back behind bars in an orange jumpsuit, she decided to risk it. Besides, she felt comfortable, and that was that.

When she finally emerged from her bedroom, she found Damon seated behind the dinner table, a big pile of food already waiting for her. Settling down on the chair next to him, she grabbed a plate of scrambled eggs, a few slices of bacon and some bread, and pulled it to her, digging in.

"So, what happened yesterday? You were pretty fucked up when I found you," she said, taking a bite.

"Yeah, let's not talk about that, huh?" He chuckled, and she couldn't help but smile as well. He stayed quiet for a few moments before his voice drew Elena out of her thoughts. "We talked, and she told me about Mason – a guy she has been screwing for months, apparently," he hissed angrily, if not even a little embarrassed.

"Well, the bitch finally came clean," she let out, already preparing herself for his wrath – she knew he was going to be pretty pissed when he found out she knew it all along, but he would just have to understand why she didn't tell him, hopefully. Though a part of her was relieved, she didn't particularly like keeping it from him.

"Excuse me?" He almost chocked on his breakfast. "You knew about it?" He asked, the disbelief written all over his features, along with betrayal.

"Of course, I knew about it. I picked up on her secret the first day, though I didn't know _who_ it was that she was fucking behind your back. I could smell a man's – definitely not yours –cologne on her the moment she opened the doors," the brunette admitted softly.

"You're a bitch, Elena." His burning eyes snapped at her, though his voice was cold as ice. "And you didn't think I would want to know?! I knew you were obsessed with playing your fucking games, but this, this is low even for you!"

"Like you would have believed me if I had told you," she snorted, keeping her voice cool.

"You should have told me!" He suddenly stood up, knocking the chair over. "You, Gilbert, are a selfish, manipulative bitch. For someone who claims to believe in honesty as much as you do, you're a fucking liar." _Harsh. _The words cut her deeply, but she couldn't let him see it, she couldn't even believe it herself – there were few people on this world whose words actually touched her.

"But you knew that already, you knew who I was! I'm the most selfish person you'll ever meet; I'm a criminal for fuck's sake! Who did you think I was? I do believe in honesty, and I hate it when people lie to me, because I see right through them. I'm blunt and honest, but do you really think I would risk the life of my friend for _you _– the guy who sent me to a fucking prison? I needed you focused – I still do, and the truth would only distract you." _Uh oh. _She was getting angry, standing up as well. "And don't you dare fucking blame me for your mistakes – you're a fucking FBI agent. How could you not notice something so obvious from your own fiancée? I know you're hurting, but I owe you nothing, Damon!"

"You can't play with people's lives like that, Elena! I get that you can't afford to care about anybody but yourself, but I thought you were better than that. I honestly did. I have to admit, you're a fucking brilliant actor, you know that? So, congratulations, you managed to play me, you tricked me, and you got me to care about you! Bravo," his voice lost all of its iciness and was now just empty, tired. Shaking his head in defeat, he walked towards the doors, lingering at the doorway for a second. "Not everyone's against you, Elena," was the last thing she heard before he disappeared.

"That's rich coming from a guy who locked me up for two years!" She yelled after him, knowing he could still hear her.

His words hit far too close to home, and she hated him for it. She despised him. She loathed him! He wasn't supposed to know her so well - nobody was! Her walls were always so high up, so solid, but around him they seemed to shake, and he saw so much more about her than she wanted him to. She was so used to people knowing only what she wanted them to know about her, and Damon's words just twisted that invisible knife in her heart deeper. _Fuck!_ This so wasn't the way it was supposed to go.

She plopped back down on the chair, her mind completely oblivious to her surroundings – a bomb could go off ten feet away from her, and she wouldn't even register it. The words rang in her mind, and the realization of how fucked up the situation really was dawned on her. Something utterly terrible had happened. Something that should never, ever have happened - he thought he _cared_ about her. He was an even bigger fool than she thought. Shaking her head, she leaned her elbows on the table and rested her head in her palms, thinking of how the fuck she could possibly fix this.

* * *

It wasn't even ten minutes later that her phone beeped, making her jump in her chair, startling her. She thought about just ignoring it and crawling back under the covers again, hiding away from the world, but decided against it – it could be something about Caroline, and her best friend was definitely her priority right now.

The text message was from Elijah, and she guiltily realized she had completely forgotten about him. And that she was still mad at him. _Bastard._

Elijah Mikaelson: _I know you're pissed, but there's something I want to show you. Meet me in the lobby in ten._

Elena Gilbert: _So not in the mood, Elijah!_

Elijah Mikaelson: _Just get down here, Elena._

She decided not to text back. Of course, she was curious about what exactly he had to show her, but the timing was really not right. She wasn't sure how she would handle Elijah on top of everything else right now – just another smartass trying to figure her out. But he would truly be a great distraction – something she desperately needed.

Finally, the tempting offer and curiosity got the better of her, and she left her suite, making her way to the lobby where Elijah was surely already waiting. She spotted him immediately, dressed in a suit again, looking sharp as ever.

"What do you have for me, Elijah?" She asked, getting straight to the point. She was still angry with him about the night before.

"I came across some drug-dealers. I know where they're hiding," he began, but she stopped him, gaping at him in shock.

"Are you out of your fucking mind? Again? I thought you were done with drugs!" She hissed in a sharp whisper, shaking her head in disgust.

"I am! I'm not trying to buy some, Elena, for fuck's sake! I'm talking about busting them, like we used to do in Mystic Falls, remember? I need to blow off some steam, and you, my friend, look like you could use some action as well," he sounded offended, and she regretted her accusations right away. Elijah on drugs was completely different from this Elijah, of that much she was certain.

When they were younger, and Elena needed someone to beat the shit out of since she couldn't do that at home, they used to hunt down dealers, and use them as their punching bags. They were only teenagers, craving attention and justice – as they called it. Vigilantes, they called themselves – silly kids! They both knew it wasn't okay. It was sick, but they fucking deserved it – all of them. If there was anything in the world that Elena despised more than her uncle, it was drugs. Drugs had taken so much from her – first her brother, and then, eventually, even Elijah - ironically the one who helped her catch them.

"You sure you can handle the temptation?" She couldn't help but ask bitterly, already walking towards his car.

"I've been clean for eight years, Elena. You seem to forget you aren't the only one who lost something to drugs. Look at what it cost me," he let out, matching her pace. But she didn't want to hear it, not today.

"If we're doing this, I have one rule. No talking about the past, not even a word," she all but demanded, raising her eyebrow at him.

"Deal," he smiled back, holding the door open for her so she could climb into the car.

"This is it?" Elena asked as the borrowed semi-truck came to a stop in front of a small warehouse – one of those that she and Damon hadn't searched when they had been in this area looking for Caroline.

"Yes," he nodded, reaching for something in the back seat. "Here," he said, holding out a gun for her. "Just in case," he added, urging her to take it.

"You know I don't like guns, Elijah," she murmured, looking at the black weapon with disgust. "I'll take a bow and arrows if you have some," she only half joked, really not being comfortable with the idea of being anywhere near guns, though she knew the people they were about to face were certainly going to be well equipped.

He sighed. "Actually, there's your old bow in the trunk, and some arrows as well." He didn't sound all too pleased, which was understandable. Even though she was pretty good at archery, a bullet was still going to be faster than her arrow.

Her jaw almost hit the floor, and her eyes widened. "Why the fuck do you have my bow in the trunk? Do you carry it around all the time?" She asked in disbelief – she could hardly believe he even still had it!

"No, Elena, I do not carry it around all the time. I knew you wouldn't go for the gun – I had to try, though." There was a faint smile on his face, and she knew he was remembering all their archery and fighting lessons.

"Okay, well, what are we waiting for then?" A wide grin spread across her lips, and her eyes twinkled in anticipation. She couldn't wait to kick some ass!

"Let's go," his grin matched hers as they got out and rounded the car.

Elijah opened the trunk, and a strong feeling of nostalgia flooded through Elena as she spotted her old, dark purple bow. Lifting it, she turned it around a few times, observing it in awe. The quote, "_When the archer misses the mark, he turns and looks for the fault within himself. Failure to hit the bull's eye is never the fault of the target. To improve your aim – improve yourself," _was still resting there in delicate, italic letters. It was just like she remembered it. Her mind drifted back to their conversation with Damon. Was it really her fault?

She shook her head to shoo the nasty thoughts away, and instead focused on the bow again. Taking the arrows in her hands, she smiled. They were sharp as knives, made from titanium and steel – an improvement over her last ones.

"Thank you," she breathed out, "for keeping this." The smile that spread across her face was so genuine that Elijah couldn't help but return it.

He then fished out a pair of masks from the trunk, but Elena shook her head – she didn't need to bother with hiding her identity; she was wearing a tracking device, after all. Damon would know it was her, but if she wasn't breaking any rules, there was nothing he could do about it. She understood, though, why Elijah had to hide himself – he was, after all, a well-respected lawyer. No matter how powerful his friends were, his reputation would be fairly ruined if they managed to connect him with what was going to transpire in the warehouse in a matter of minutes.

With her bow and arrows slung over her shoulder, a small knife tucked into her boot, and a wide grin on her slightly-flushed face, Elena impatiently waited for Elijah. After tucking a pair of guns behind his belt, and pulling a mask down over his face, he gave her a thumbs up.

"Promise me you will not use your guns if it is not strictly necessary," she demanded.

"I promise, Elena." He nodded sincerely, and they took off towards the abandoned building.

After disabling the two guards at the back entrance, the pair snuck in, their bodies pumping with adrenaline and excitement. Elena scanned the place with her eyes, trying to figure out the best way to approach the matter at hand. Spotting a dark balcony, she cocked her head to the side, motioning it towards Elijah. Nodding his head in understanding, he moved like a cat, hiding between some barrels to see if the area was clear, while the brunette ran towards the worn-down, metal stairs.

Her ankle boots clicked against the hard floor as she went, and she flinched, regretting her choice of footwear. She only hoped they wouldn't draw too much attention. She could hear people talking in muffled voices, but she couldn't see them yet. From the corner of her eyes, she spotted a man nearing the spot where Elijah was, oblivious to the man hiding there. She would let the British man deal with him.

Climbing up the shaky stairs, she let out a sigh of relief when they didn't crumble under her weight. There were two men securing the dark balcony, though they didn't see or hear her approach, too engaged in their conversation. As silently as possible, the brunette snuck up behind the nearest man, who had his back turned to her, and delivered a strong blow with her bow on the back of his head, knocking him out.

"What the-" the other man began, but didn't finish as another punch hit his chin, making him stumble back. He tried to kick her, holding the metal fence to steady himself, but Elena, expecting his move, caught his leg, twisting it around so he went crashing down on the floor with a loud 'thud'. The balcony shook slightly, and when the man tried to stand up, she yanked his hair, slamming him face-first into the metal. He passed out.

With a satisfied smirk, Elena ran further down the narrow balcony, the voices getting louder. Looking back, she saw Elijah following her silently on the ground, nodding his head at her when he noticed her watching him.

Rounding the corner, she froze on the spot at the sight before her. This wasn't just a hiding place - it was a fucking laboratory! There was science equipment sprawled all over the back part of the warehouse, hiding behind a stock of boxes, a black, plastic curtain and many barrels. She wondered if Elijah knew about it.

Shaking her head, she walked a few steps forward, careful not to be too loud – she didn't want them to know they were there just yet. She had to see how many were there first, come up with a strategy, and all that. There were two muscular man at the front, each with a shotgun in their hands. Another five men were sitting on plastic chairs in the middle, smoking and drinking. A middle-aged woman was standing behind the counter, dressed all in white with goggles over her eyes, mixing substances. She looked deeply-concentrated, and Elena despised her the most. The men were just puppets, she knew, because this wasn't their first bust, far from it – and there was always a brain behind the operations. The men were clearly just her toys, her soldiers.

Deciding now was as good time as any, the brunette pulled an arrow out of the holder, and the familiar feeling washed over her immediately, her muscles working by memory. Aiming, she released the string, and the sharp arrow was flying in the woman's direction with the speed she knew it would.

Less than three seconds later, there was a cracking sound as the glass in the woman's hand exploded from the force of the arrow, and all hell broke loose. She didn't want to hurt them, or worse, but there was nothing wrong, with messing with their precious lab, was there? Her arrows flew in high speed, always hitting their targets, while the men beneath her screamed, searching for the source of the attack. The woman hid under the table like the coward she was.

When she had enough of hiding, the brunette gracefully swung herself over the fence, falling down, and landing perfectly on the top of a stack of wooden boxes, one knee bent. Her bow still in her hand, she raised her head, waiting for the first sounds of gun fire.

"Who are you, lass?" Came a thick, Irish accent from one of the men, his shotgun aimed directly at her heart.

"I could tell you, but where would be the fun in that?" She smirked, jumping off, and landing in the floor with a front flip. "Come on, people, drugs? Really? Didn't your mothers teach you drugs were bad?" She taunted, and then went rolling across the floor as the first gun fired.

Taking out the nearest guy, she vaguely noticed Elijah had finally joined them, his limbs elegantly flying around as he began disarming the men. Smiling, she focused on the muscular man who was currently trying to deliver a very painful blow to her abdomen, after she had taken his shotgun from him and used it to hurt that ugly face of his. She hadn't even realized how much she had missed this: the fight, the action, the thrill of taking down bastards like these guys.

Damon's words came back to her, haunting her as her blows became stronger, her kicks higher. Elijah was right, she could use some action.

* * *

Her body was aching from some of the strong punches she had received, her lip was split, and she was pretty sure there was going to be a nasty bruise on the left side of her body where she had hit the metal table; but she felt absolutely amazing, still high on adrenaline, and a sly smirk tugging at her lips. Her shirt was bloodied – most of the blood wasn't hers – and the leggings were ripped, though her boots were still pretty. At least there was that.

She let her eyes smugly fall on the seven pretty-badly-beaten up men, and the scared woman, all tied to their chairs with eyes full of fear - just the way she liked them. She grinned. Her shoulder felt naked without her bow again, and she already missed the heavy feeling of the quiver on her back, but she knew she had to give them back to Elijah – how would she explain them to Salvatore?

Elijah had just driven off, knowing that the FBI would be at the crime scene in less than five minutes – Elena had made sure of that - and now all she could do was wait. Leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest and one leg propped against the wall, she relished in the feeling of victory. And she was horny, like a fucking hormonal teenager, for fuck's sake! She was hiding in the dark, patiently waiting for her favorite agent.

Her head snapped to the side when she heard voices in the front of the building and heavy footsteps. Not a minute later, a bunch of FBI agents poured behind the curtain, dressed in bullet-proof vests and all that. When they spotted the eight tied up people, they lowered their weapons, shooting curious glances to each other, and some of the others scanned the area.

"Well, you took your time," her voice echoed through the air, making every one in the room turn her way, weapons in place again.

She stayed in the shadows, waiting for the all-too-familiar figure to make its way to the front of the agents. It didn't take long before she spotted him, his gun resting securely in his hands, as he took a few careful steps forward.

Finally deciding it was time to show herself, Elena pushed herself off the wall and stepped out of the dark, the signature smirk in its place. "As I said, you guys should really buy faster cars."

"Gilbert? What the fuck!" Damon's eyes widened when he saw her, his tense posture relaxing a little bit. He turned his head back to the others and sighed. "It's just Gilbert." They nodded, lowering their weapons along with him.

"What is this? What are you doing here?!" He still sounded furious with her, their earlier argument clearly not forgotten yet.

Sighing dramatically, Elena rolled her eyes. "It's a peace offering," she shrugged, smiling sweetly. "These," she waved at the tied up drug dealers, and continued, "are – no wait, were – running a drug laboratory down here, and I caught them for you. Think of it as an apology," she shrugged again.

Letting out a loud groan of frustration, Damon turned to the other agents, barking orders to do their work as he roughly grabbed Elena by her forearm and all but dragged her out of the building, ignoring her protests – not that she couldn't get his hand off if she really wanted. She flinched a little as his grip tightened on her slightly bruised arm but said nothing. A minute or so later, they stepped out into the fresh air, the cold wind hitting them as soon as they exited the building. It was already getting dark, and Elena couldn't believe how long she had been in there. He let go of her, turning to face her.

"I honestly have no words to say, except that you are a psychopath." His hands ran through his messy hair as he walked closer to her.

"A sociopath, actually…" she murmured, leaning back against the building. It was a little hard to stand still if she was being honest – not that she couldn't handle the pain.

"Oh, fuck you, Gilbert! How did you even know about this, and what the fuck were you thinking coming here in the first place?" He stressed angrily.

"Well, I was taking a walk to clear my mind when I found this beautiful warehouse, and the doors were open, so I decided to investigate a little. But it wasn't empty, you see. There were these mean men in there, and they tried to hurt me, so I really had no choice but to hurt them back," she pouted, the lie rolling off her tongue smoothly. Of course, she saw he didn't believe her; she didn't really expect him to.

"Cut the crap, Elena! Stop playing games!"

"Why do you care how I got here? I just caught you eight fucking drug dealers – one of them was the pretty woman in the white coat - a fucking scientist gone rouge! You should be jumping for joy, you asshole," she shot back, not liking the way he was speaking to her. Of course, she knew he was going to be fucking pissed, and confused, and so frustrated, but he kept bringing up her games every time they fought, and it was starting to piss her off.

He shook his head, but didn't say anything back. He looked exhausted, and she vaguely wondered what the hell he had been doing all day. "Stay the fuck here," he ordered in a stern voice, walking back into the building.

Letting out a tired sigh, Elena waited, her heart still pounding from adrenaline. Oh, God, how much she loved Elijah right now for bringing her here – she hadn't had so much fun in what felt like forever. Sure, she got into many fights in the prison – and won most of them – but this was different. There had been no guards to pull her away, no small, ugly rooms to lock her in for punishment. This was fucking freedom – as weird as it sounded.

Damon came out a few minutes later, his whole body tense. He didn't even bother to look if she was still there as he walked towards the parking lot, and she had no choice but to follow him. Silently, they both slid into the car.

It wasn't until a few minutes into the ride that he spoke. "Who was helping you, Elena?" His voice startled her, and she raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't bother denying it. I know you're more than capable of taking care of yourself, but there were seven armed men in there, and there is no way you took care of all of them. Besides, they said there were two of you, but that the other one was wearing a mask." She wasn't even trying to deny it, she just wasn't going to tell him.

"That's for me to know and for you to dot, dot, dot…" she still managed to smirk.

"Elena!" He snapped, slamming his hand against the steering-wheel.

"You don't have to worry about it, honestly," she said hesitantly. There was no way in hell she was going to betray Elijah, no matter how much bad blood there was between them.

"You are, by far, the most insufferable and insane woman I've ever encountered," he muttered, shaking his head in disapproval.

"Thank you," she grinned, pleased.

"It wasn't a compliment," he stated seriously. Of course, she knew that, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to take it as one.

* * *

_**Feedback is love!**_


	9. Somewhere Only We Know

**PLAYING WITH FIRE**

_**Chapter 8: Somewhere Only We Know**_

_by W. A. Ravensdale_

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I know this chapter is a bit shorter than the others, but I just had to end it there. I'm already warning you about the cliffhanger - don't kill me! Thank you, my amazing readers, for all the marvelous feedback and kind words! I love you!

I'm aware I sound like a broken record for thanking my fabulous beta every chapter, but she is just so freaking amazing! You should see the crap I send her! **_RunningInAir_**, you rock!

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Diaries or any of its_ characters.**

My twitter: **WARavensdale**

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_"We build too many walls and not enough bridges."_

- Isaac Newton

* * *

"Okay, look, I get that you are still pissed at me because of this morning, because I didn't tell you about Andie and all that, and I don't blame you," Elena started as they finally entered the suite, turning around to face him. "It was a bitchy move, and I'm sorry," she admitted honestly, running her fingers through her hair. He didn't look at her.

"But what I don't get, is why you're so mad at me for this. I mean, nobody said I wasn't allowed to go for a walk outside or leave the building. You knew exactly where I was – or you would have if you'd bothered to check this pesky tracking device – and, technically, I didn't exactly break any rules. I stayed in the twenty-mile radius! Plus, I caught you eight criminals." She was getting anxious around him. She was used to him being pissed at her, even furious, but he always had a reason. Right now, he did not.

"You should be thanking me," she shrugged with a half-smile on her lips, trying to lighten the dark mood as she leaned back against the wall. She couldn't help herself but to remember the last time she was backed into the same wall and it brought a smirk to her lips. Damon blinked, his beautiful eyes finally settling on hers.

"Well, excuse me if I don't, will you?" He barked, throwing the keys on the low table next to the door. They were still in the middle of the hallway.

His eyes were blazing, almost black now as he angrily stalked towards her. "I know you're a criminal, Elena. I know you don't care about anyone but yourself, but tell me, why do you enjoy provoking me so much? What's in it for you? Why do you enjoy driving me insane?" He spoke, his voice low and a bit husky.

She wasn't backing away now, no freaking way. Instead, she straightened her back and looked up at his eyes, determined. "When I first spiked your interest, when you were trying so hard to catch me, when you spent your nights thinking about catching me and nothing else – you were so perfectly raw. You were reckless, determined, stubborn, dangerous, and so fucking passionate about everything – whether you admit it or not, you loved the thrill of the chase. You loved the way I was molding you into a better agent each day. You gave light and meaning to everything you touched, Damon. I was young, freshly betrayed, and I was never more alert than I was then. My brain decided to push the pain and heartache away, and I was utterly brilliant with that clarity. I was cautious and observant as fuck. I knew you better than you knew yourself – and I was only watching from afar. You were bursting with life; you were impulsive and so addictively free – nothing could stop you. You were a challenge to me, a game I loved playing even if I knew you would eventually catch me – though I can honestly say I didn't think it would have been as soon as it was.

And then, all of a sudden, you met Andie. You fell in love, or whatever your relationship was all about, and the Salvatore I admired died. Like it or not, Andie stole that burning fire from you. She caged you and tamed you into perfection. No longer were you the fierce, ruthless agent chasing me; you were just a ghost of him." Somewhere during her speech, something between them had changed. The air somehow became heavier, the tension thicker, and she wasn't sure if she should embrace it or run away from it.

"So, you see now why I like it when you're on the edge of lashing out. When the blood pumps in your veins, and I can practically see the animal you try so hard to suppress rushing to the surface, you are indescribably amazing in that moment – you just explode. You weren't meant to be tamed, Damon, just like I wasn't, and it's okay to admit that - it doesn't make you a bad person or a criminal – it makes you you. I don't need you empty, Damon – I don't _like_ you being dead inside," she finished, smiling a little. Her body was still pulsing with adrenaline, craving the feeling of power already. She was breathing heavily but wasn't even sure why. Her lips were dry, and her heart was thumping in her chest, and only then did she realize how fucking close they were; the distance between their faces so negligible that she could feel his ragged breaths on her skin, feel the heat radiating off his body, and her eyes skipped to his full lips just begging to be ravished again – she felt a tightening low in her abdomen.

"Then make me feel alive again," he breathed out, his voice just above a husky whisper as he took the last step towards her, pinning her between the wall and his frame. His hands rested against the wall on either side of her head, keeping her from moving away, ensuring their bodies were as close as possible. "Make me feel alive, Elena," he whispered, his eyes flicking to her lips, and as if his eyes brought her own attention to her lips, she drew the lower one between her teeth, biting down on it. The pain of her split lip shot through her, the metallic taste of blood in her mouth, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

She knew she shouldn't, it was wrong on so many levels, but she just didn't care anymore. She didn't survive on the run for so long because she cared about right and wrong – she survived by taking chances and trusting her instincts. She trusted those same instincts now, and let her hand sneak around his neck, roughly pulling him closer, their lips crushing together in a bruising, hungry kiss.

It was like something exploded in Damon in that moment, like he let go of that guarded, safe part of himself and let the wild side take over. He responded with such urgency and need that Elena couldn't stop the moan coming from between her lips as his hands dropped down to her legs, lifting her up like she weighed nothing, slamming her harder against the wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist, fisting her hands in his hair, and let her tongue run sensually over his bottom lip as if asking for permission. He parted his lips for her and the kiss became more urgent, more hungry, and more raw.

She had barely begun to taste him when he pulled back, his hands still gripping her tightly. She opened her eyes to find him staring at her displeased, and she raised her eyebrow in confusion. "You're hurt," he whispered breathlessly, and she became aware of the blood on her lip again. Her heart fluttered in her chest at his concern, but she pushed the feeling away as fast as it came.

Smiling, she untangled her hands from his hair and slowly trailed them across his collarbones, down over his chest and toned stomach, and further down until she reached his abdomen, her lust-filled eyes never leaving his. Tugging at his shirt, she let those questing hands sneak under the thin fabric, brushing her fingers over the tense, hard muscles, making him shudder beneath her touch. She lifted the shirt, her legs clutching tightly around his waist as he lifted his arms over his head to allow her to pull it over his head. He looked at her, puzzled, as the shirt fell to the floor.

Yanking him closer again, she ghosted her lips over his. "It's nothing. Now, shut up and kiss me." She could practically feel his self-control breaking as she arched her back, grinding herself against him. Without warning, his lips were back on hers again, his body pushing against her harder. She moaned when she felt his arousal pressing against her aching core, vehemently wishing there weren't clothes between them. She bit down on his lip this time, smiling with satisfaction when a low groan left his mouth.

Her hands began to explore the perfection that was Damon Salvatore – finally! - after what felt like ages of only appreciating him from afar. They ran down his chest, his back, gripping his strong biceps and shoulders. They found his soft, midnight hair again as the need for air became urgent, and he broke the kiss, only to trail his lips expertly down her neck, sucking on her pulse point, as the breaths between them grew hotter and more desperate. She wasn't sure if it was him or the fact that she hadn't had anyone ravish her in years, but she couldn't remember the last time just kissing had brought her so much pleasure.

One of his hands ran up and down her thigh, as the other cupped her face, his lips returning to hers. Digging her heels in his ass to pull him closer, she roughly gripped his hair, yanking his head back so she could have better access to his jaw and neck. He moaned, his voice husky with the force of his arousal.

"Bedroom?" He growled when she bit his earlobe softly.

She said nothing, only nodded in response and proceeded to leave burning kisses down his neck and collarbone. Vaguely, she felt him move, carrying her without breaking a sweat, and her lips found his again. He hissed quietly when he accidently knocked over a decorating vase, and she burst out laughing, shaking her head as he smiled back. Finally, he stumbled into her bedroom. Her hands left his hair and dropped to the hem of her shirt as she went to pull it off, but his hand stopped her. A frown graced her features as she looked up into his face.

He set her down on her feet again when they reached the edge of her bed, and she was just about to question him when his hands replaced hers, and he slowly began unbuttoning her bloodied shirt. Smirking, she let him. There was a small genuine smile on his face as well, and Elena realized it was the first time she had seen him smile for real. She decided she didn't ever want it to leave his lips, and she stood up on her toes to brush her lips across the sweetly seductive expression.

"Damon," she whispered, and his eyes found hers again. "Stop teasing me. I want you."

When all the buttons were undone, he grasped the sides of the opened shirt and pulled her to him, her body flush with his. He kissed her again, teasingly pushing the shirt off her shoulders. It pooled on the floor around her legs, and he wasted no time in lifting her up and all but throwing her onto the bed where she landed, gasping from the pain that shot through her sore body and hoping he hadn't noticed. Of course, luck was not on her side.

"Elena?" He rasped, breathing heavily as he lowered himself to the bed and crawled towards her. She tried to wiggle herself away from him, but he straddled her thighs, not letting her get away. Carefully, he removed her hand from her side and let out an animalistic growl, making Elena roll her eyes in annoyance. She knew the nasty bruise was already painting her skin, but the adrenaline had been keeping most of the pain away…for now…and she would be damned if she let a freaking bruise prevent her the pleasure she knew he could give her.

"What the fuck, Elena?!" He hissed, ghosting his cool fingers over her left side, and she shuddered.

She knew she should feel pain – she sure as hell would in the morning – but the only thing she was aware of right now was the fire burning her skin from his gentle touch. Taking him by surprise, she flipped them over, pinning him down on the mattress. Of course, he could push her off anytime he wanted, but she had a strong feeling that he wouldn't – both to avoid hurting her and to alleviate the painfully-obvious arousal flowing through him.

Straddling his lap, she leaned towards him, her hair falling around them like a curtain. Kissing him passionately, she could feel he was still too stubborn, and sighed. "I told you it was nothing, Damon. Come on," she urged, rolling her hips against his, earning herself another hiss.

"That is not nothing! You're hurt! You need to go to a doctor," he attempted to state firmly, but his resolve was quickly weakening - she could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice.

"Oh, please. I've had much worse, believe me." It was true, she'd been beaten up so many times in her life she had lost count – mostly by her uncle or in fights like today. The pain never bothered her that much.

Not waiting for his response, she captured his lips with hers again, showing him just how much the pain didn't bother her. He hesitated, but not for long. His hands were in her hair in seconds, pulling her even closer, and she couldn't help the smirk that tugged on her lips – she was getting what she wanted after all. Her nails teasingly ran across his abdomen, until they finally settled on the button of his jeans. Smiling, she unbuttoned it, pulled down the zipper and broke the kiss, tugging his pants and boxers off while leaving wet kisses down his chest.

"Oh, would you look at that: you really are a man!" She mocked with feigned surprise when his erection sprang free, scraping his thighs with her nails, and laughing when she heard him groan loudly.

She was on her back again before she could even react, only this time, Damon didn't hesitate. He all but ripped her already-torn leggings off her, and damn did he look positively delicious doing it. In a quick motion, he had her bra and panties off her, leaving the perky brunette sprawled across the bed completely naked with that mischievous shimmer in her eyes. "You're enchanting," he breathed out, crushing his lips to her swollen ones. Her heart did one of those annoying flutters again, but she didn't dwell on it, not when his hands felt so good on her. As their tongues battled for dominance, his cold hands cupped her breasts, flicking her nipple between his fingers, making her arch her back into the touch. Pulling away, his mouth and tongue replaced his hands, and she couldn't take it anymore.

Scraping her nails over his back, she murmured, "No more teasing, please." It almost pained her to beg, but right now she was too far gone to care, and his mouth was doing wonderful things to her body. She felt like she would explode if he kept torturing her.

"I thought you said _I _was going to be the one begging?" He smirked, nibbling on her nipple.

"Fuck you," she moaned breathlessly in return, earning a low chuckle from him.

"Oh, I think you'll be the one doing that tonight, jail-bait."

She giggled, loving his playful mood. If Elena was anything, she was stubborn as hell, and she vowed to make him sorry for teasing her so deliciously. He wouldn't know what hit him, she mused, gasping when he slid down, leaving a trail of featherlike kisses over her abdomen. He kissed her inner thigh, nipping at it softly, before his mouth finally found that sweet, sweet spot, and she moaned loudly, tugging his hair with one hand and gripping the sheets with the other.

God, she had missed this so much!

His skilled tongue was doing such luscious things to her as his fingers joined the party, bringing her higher and higher towards sweet oblivion. Her anticipation grew, but at the same time, she never wanted him to stop. With a few flicks of her bundle of nerves and gentle thrusts with those fingers, she was flying, arching her back, and finally reaching that sweet nirvana.

He was on her again in no time, catching her slightly-parted lips in another one of those achingly-passionate kisses only he could give, as she slowly came down from her high. Slyly, she smirked at him, pushing him off and settling on his lap again. She reached for the drawer and pulled out a condom, sad that they had to use it at all. Better safe than sorry, right?

She ripped the package open and rolled the condom down over his painfully-hard erection, ensuring to squeeze the blood-thickened muscle with her fingers, causing him to roll his eyes back with a low groan. With the last shred of clear mind he had left, he pulled himself higher, leaning his back against the headboard, yanking her to him. Their lips clashed together again as she settled herself over his length and finally sunk down, making them both moan loudly at the sensation. She began moving, rolling her hips against his as he met her half-way.

They were both panting, their murmurs of pleasure echoing through the empty suite each time she took him deeper, faster. His hungry lips were everywhere: her mouth, her neck, her shoulders, and her breasts, causing her body to pulse with pleasure. His thrusts were fast, hard, and raw, and she loved it, moaning along with each thrust.

"Elena," he rasped, his incredibly blue eyes locking with her doe, brown ones; and in that second, something changed – it wasn't just fucking anymore, it was more than that, and she couldn't afford to have legitimate feelings, so she looked away. Instead, she rode him faster, more urgently, panting as he hit that spot inside her that she could never quite touch herself.

She claimed his swollen lips again as she felt she was getting closer, needing to be as close to him as she physically could. Her walls clenched around him, making him hiss again and grip her hips more painfully. She ignored the pain, welcoming the ache of her sore body, and with a few more thrusts, she came around him, screaming aloud at the intensity of the orgasm. Her head fell back, hair tumbling over her shoulders, and she felt him follow closely behind.

She leaned against him, her head resting on his chest, and they stayed like that for a few minutes, their breathing heavy and uneven. Eventually, she rolled off him and sprawled across the bed. From the corner of her eyes, she saw him dispose of the condom and slide under the covers, molding his body perfectly against hers.

She gave in, selfishly letting him hold her, if just for a moment – pretending it was so easy, pretending their demons matched - but it wasn't long before she closed her eyes almost painfully, and whispered, "you can't stay here."

Her voice obviously startled him, and he raised his head to look at her, confusion written all over his beautiful, tired features. "I sleep alone," she stated, like those few words would tell him all he needed to know.

It was true, she never let men or women sleep with her; she fucked them and threw them out – sharing a bed just wasn't something she was comfortable with. Not when the stakes were so high, not when it wasn't just fucking anymore.

It hurt her to say it, which confused the hell out of her, but she knew she needed to protect herself – he had gotten too deep as it was, and she couldn't let him go deeper. With a shrug, she rolled over, turning away and waiting.

She could feel the tension rolling off him as he stayed still for a moment before he threw the covers off himself and left without a word. A single tear slid down her cheek, but she brushed it away before it could fall on the sheet. It was for the best.

* * *

Her dreams were haunted by the all-too-familiar figure again, making her cry and gasp loudly, tossing around in her bed. The dreams were so wrong, so cruel – just like they always were. The blows she received in them caused her physical pain, making her cry out loudly and curl into a ball, the sheets long forgotten.

She woke up screaming, her body drenched in her sweat – the only painful reminder of her dreams and the figure which was closer to her each day. Letting out a silent cry, Elena tried to sit up, only to gasp again at the pain that flushed through her when her back arched. Willing herself to get up, she walked to the bathroom, flinching as she went.

The first thing she noticed in the big mirror was the big, purple bruise coloring her left side, and she groaned. As much as yesterday brought her pleasure, this surely wasn't the time for her to walk around injured – not when Caroline's return was so close she could almost taste it.

Shaking her head, she stepped under the shower, letting the cold water relax her muscles and clean away the sweat. She let her mind wander to what transpired later in the evening, to the way Damon's body moved against her, the way his hands travelled over her body, the way he knew exactly what she wanted before she even realized it; and suddenly, she was thankful for the cold spray pushing those thoughts away.

Instead, a darker, more painful memory entered her mind – the one of her pushing him away, the one where her heart and mind just refused to let him in, refused to let him even get close to her. Sighing, she leaned her head against the tiles, whishing this was all a dream and she would just wake up in her bedroom back at home any moment.

But, of course, she didn't. This was real, and so was Damon. Turning off the water, she dried her hair quickly, brushed her teeth and dressed, looking more collected and much stronger than she actually felt. Maybe if she acted indifferent, she would start believing it, too.

Fortunately, he wasn't up yet, and she ordered breakfast for both of them, pouring herself an all-too-early drink and downed it in seconds. It took the hotel less than five minutes before there was a knock on the door, and she opened it, thanking the nice boy who delivered room service with a nice tip. She ate alone as he still hadn't shown up, asking herself if maybe she went too far, if maybe he thought of their adventure differently than she did – she knew he wasn't the wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am kind of guy, but she didn't kid herself. She was, after all, just his rebound, was she not?

She hated the fact that, even though what happened between them was mutual, he made her feel like she forced him into it, like he didn't want to, and that this was all her fault. He was a coward, she finally decided, knowing full well he was awake now. What did he expect, anyways? It had just been sex, nothing more.

Suddenly, a ringing phone pulled her from her thoughts and she vaguely noticed it was coming from Damon's room. She waited, listening to his muffled voice but not understanding his words. There was something nagging at her, though – a bad feeling like something was just about to happen, and she shifted uncomfortably, knowing nothing good could ever come out of it.

And surely, not a minute later, Damon appeared in the doorway, his face more than displeased as he uttered four simple words that nevertheless managed to bring Elena's mind snapping into focus. "Caroline's in the hospital."

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_**Feedback is love!**_


	10. How To Save a Life

**PLAYING WITH FIRE**

_**Chapter 9: How To Save a Life**_

_by W. A. Ravensdale_

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I'm back! Did you miss me? I know you did! Another cliffy in the end. I know, you must hate my guts by now! I'm sooo glad you all liked the last chapter, and thank you all for your amazing feedback! I can't tell you how happy your reviews make me! Keep 'em coming!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Diaries or any or its characters.**

Thank you, **_RunningInAir_ **for being as amazing as you are!

My twitter: _**WARavensdale**_

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_"Sometimes the prize is not worth the costs. The means by which we achieve victory are as important as the victory itself." _

_― _Brandon Sanderson

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Caroline was alive, and that was all that mattered to Elena.

It seemed that her kidnappers didn't torture or hurt her much, at least not physically. She had a few nasty bruises, which were already a few days old, and mild head trauma, but she was stable. The doctors had to put her in a clinical coma until the swelling on her brain had subsided, which worried Elena greatly, but other than that, it looked like the blonde would make it.

The doctor told Elena she could come back and visit the next day, seeing as Caroline was in intensive care and wasn't allowed any visitors just yet. Elena didn't want to go home; she insisted on staying at the hospital through the night, but Klaus assured her he would call her if there were any new developments. After a few hours of reassurance that Caroline would be safe in the hospital, Elena very reluctantly agreed.

As she walked down the narrow hospital hallways, she had to physically keep the tears from escaping her eyes. She wouldn't let them fall, not yet. Caroline may be back, but this was far from over – truly, it was just beginning.

Caroline's return was an illusion; everyone was trying to make Elena feel like things were going to be okay, like they were safe, but as much as she couldn't bear the thought of those sick people taking her best friend again, she knew the blonde wasn't the target anymore. No, it was her turn now.

She was angry with herself for being so distracted, for fooling around with Damon instead of doing everything she could to find her friend, furious with her uncle and the people who dared to lift a finger to Caroline, angry with Damon for being so damn distracting, and most of all, angry with the universe for fucking everything up, for taking everything away from her, and for never letting her be happy even for a second.

The guilt was slowly eating her up from the inside. It was all her fault, after all. She was to blame for Caroline's kidnapping; it was her fault the blonde went through God-knew-what, and it was her fault this was far from the end.

By the time she reached the parking lot where Damon told her he would wait for her, she was slightly panicking. The sudden idea of having to see her uncle again after everything was scary as fuck, and even though she didn't get scared easily, the fear was beginning to creep into her mind and body, and goose-bumps erupted on her skin.

As promised, Damon was waiting for her, his arms crossed as he was leaning back against the car, lost in his thoughts. They hadn't had a chance to talk about what happened the night before, but for some unknown reason, she was glad he was there. She wouldn't admit she needed him, not yet – maybe not ever – but she would admit it felt nice to know he cared enough to at least wait for her.

Like he could sense her, he looked up and blinked, straightening his posture. "Are you alright?" He asked, genuine concern lacing his voice, and she smiled sadly, nodding.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," she said quietly, her voice shaky as she approached him almost shyly.

A sympathetic smile tugged on his lips as he pushed himself away from the car and slowly stalked towards her. For a second, she thought he was going to kiss her, and her eyes widened, but his hand caught her forearm and pulled her into a tight hug, her body crashing against his. His arms enveloped her, holding her close, and her whole body tensed. She was not used to hugging or any kind of physical closeness except sex, which was usually too empty to count.

He felt her hesitation, and hugged her closer, somehow just knowing she needed this. Giving up, she relaxed a bit and wrapped her arms around his torso, burying her face in his neck. She hated to admit it, but it felt good; his embrace felt warm, and for the first time in God-knew-how long, she felt safe.

And it scared the shit out of her.

* * *

The car ride back towards the hotel was uncomfortable at best. The air was filled with thick tension as they both tried to say something about what happened the night before, but nobody really had energy to fight – something that was bound to happen if they really went down that road. Though, Elena was fairly sure Damon would mention it sooner or later.

The walk towards the suite was just as silent, and the tension was actually killing Elena. She didn't need this shit right now, and she seriously considered caving in first and getting it over with, but she was too stubborn to give him the satisfaction. Though, the yelling would definitely relive some of the tension. Plus, she could always hope for make-up sex, right?

As soon as they reached the suite and closed the doors behind them, Damon left her alone, going down the hall and into his bedroom. Rolling her eyes, she went and poured herself a much-needed drink and plopped down on the couch. Vaguely, she realized that she was going back to prison very soon – with Caroline back, they would either catch them quickly or never at all. And with that thought, she poured herself another drink.

If she was going down, she was sure as hell taking those bastards with her! Maybe she could make a deal with Damon to be his consultant and help him catch criminals such as herself – she certainly knew how they thought and operated - but would he go for it? Was that even what she wanted? They were too close for her liking already, and she knew the feelings would only grow if they kept spending time together. The idea of another three years of prison suddenly didn't seem so bad.

Behind bars, it was her body that would be trapped; but with Damon, it would be her heart, and she wasn't sure anymore which was better.

With a loud sigh, she realized that overthinking won't help her much, and decided it might be the time to face Damon. Getting up, she walked towards his bedroom, wondering what he was even doing in there; he surely hadn't gone to sleep yet - it was barely past eight in the afternoon.

The doors were slightly ajar, and she pushed them open, frowning when he was nowhere to be spotted. She looked around and noticed the light coming from the bathroom, and she hesitated for a moment, not sure if she should go there, but since the doors were open anyway, she shrugged and made her way farther into the room.

She found Damon leaning shirtless against the sink, his hands gripping the counter and his muscles tensed. Not wanting to stop looking at him just yet, she quietly leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms over her chest. He truly was a beautiful human being. The muscles of his back were marvelous as they flexed with his breathing, his shoulders moved gracefully with every breath he inhaled, and even though he had his pants on, she knew his ass was as perfect as it got.

He was a valuable piece of art – meant to be looked at, examined, but not to be touched, at least not by her. She wondered many times if his beauty was too precious for her to destroy, if the sparkle of his personality would still shine after she was done with him, but she knew she wouldn't be able to stay away, no matter how precious of a statue he was.

The thing that bothered her the most was the fact that sometimes she somehow became the prey in their predator-eat-prey game. It was always just for a second, but he did manage to make her feel vulnerable, even if she didn't show him that – it was enough that she knew it. She could never let him see it, because even a moment of weakness would give him hope of the possibility that he could climb her walls, making him try harder, and she couldn't let that happen. She had gone too far already by letting him hug her earlier.

Shaking her head as to make those thoughts go away, she was surprised to see he hadn't noticed her yet. He was obviously just as deep in his thoughts as she was, and she smiled at that, not sure why exactly. Deciding to lighten up the suddenly-dark mood, she stepped farther into the bathroom.

"You're not still mad with me, are you?" She smiled sweetly as his eyes met hers in the mirror, and his whole body tensed even more, if that was even possible.

Not able to resist, Elena let her nails run down his naked back, leaving a faint red trace behind. She smirked when she felt him shudder and close his eyes for a second before he opened them again, his gaze a few shades darker, though she wasn't sure if it was lust or anger that had caused the change.

He snorted but remained silent, making her sigh loudly. "What exactly are you angry for: the fact that I kicked you out, or the knowledge that you finally gave in?" She asked, her voice still light as her fingers travelled up and down his back.

He still refused to say anything, and she was getting impatient. Dropping her hand from his back, she used it to grip his upper arm and tug him gently, urging him to turn around. She knew he could have easily resisted her, but he didn't. Instead, he let her spin his body to face hers. "Whether you like it or not, I don't do emotions, Damon. Not with you, not with anyone, and if you want to keep our little adventures going, then you need to accept that. So, what do you say?" She purred the last part, her fingers brushing over his toned stomach gently.

"I say I'm not going to be your go-to when you feel overwhelmed," he spoke very calmly and quietly, his hands stopping her movements. "I'm not going to deny yesterday was amazing, because it was, and I'd be lying if I told you my dick doesn't get hard just by thinking about it, but I'm not just some toy you can throw away when you get bored," he went on, but she cut him off, scoffing as she pulled her hands out of his grip.

"I really hope you're not trying to act hard-to-get right now, because I can assure you it won't work," she snorted, taking a step back, but he caught her hands again.

"No, don't do this. Just for once stop reflecting, stop pulling away when things get out of your comfort-zone," he all but hissed, and she opened her mouth to tell him he was wrong, but the words never came out.

"Elena, I know you're scared, okay? I get that you don't want to open up to me. I get that your first instinct is to run as fast as you can. I know that even the possibility of trusting someone scares the shit out of you, but I need you to trust me. We both know your uncle is coming for you soon, and we need to fight him together; it's our only chance to get out of this alive. I might not agree with your choices, I might hate the things you've done in the past, but I'm not letting you walk into a trap alone, okay? I care about you too much," he finished, his eyes locked with her wide ones.

Too much was happening too soon, he was too close to her, he knew her too well already, but she had no escape. She couldn't run away, because he would track her down anywhere she went. She couldn't push him away, because that didn't work anymore. The only thing she could do was to beat him at his own game.

"You should guard your heart more carefully, Damon. You never know when someone might pull it out and stomp on it," she taunted, her face masked into a collected façade, as she crossed her palms over his heart.

"I've been cheated on, betrayed, and had my heart broken by the women I loved a few times before, Elena, but I'm still not scared of the idea of love. I'm not afraid of opening up, because no matter how painful it can be, pain is better than feeling nothing. Pain makes you alive, and there can't be darkness without light, just as there can't be happiness without a little pain," he spoke passionately, making her hate him for it. He was supposed to tell her to go to hell, not make her feel weaker.

"You've known me for eight days, Damon. Don't act like I'm your long-lost love," she all but spat out, trying to regain some of the control back.

"Actually, I've known you for years. You are not the only one who got to know me in those years I spent chasing you, darling; and don't flatter yourself, I'm not trying to confess my undying love for you," he smirked when he finished, making her glare at him for even implying such a thing.

"Then what _are_ you trying to do?" She challenged, her hands still pressed against his warm chest.

He frowned, thinking for a moment. "I don't know. I guess I'm trying to show you you're not alone, at least not in this," he said finally, his eyes burning in hers.

"I might be surrounded with thousands of people and still feel completely alone. In my mind, Damon, it's just me against the world. I learned a long time ago that the only person you can trust is yourself, just as I learned that being good gets you nowhere. Don't assume your words will suddenly get me to trust you," she told him flatly.

"Fine, then I propose a deal," his face suddenly lit up, and it was her turn to frown now.

"What kind of a deal?" She asked suspiciously as her hands dropped, and she took a step back.

"After we catch your uncle and the people responsible for this mess, I will make you my consultant. In return, I want you to stop pushing me away and think of the possibility of trusting me," he said confidently, like he was sure she wouldn't be able to resist his offer.

She wanted to tell him no right away, but her common sense – or what was left of it – stopped her. Could she actually do that? Could she ever trust him, or even try to? As much as she needed time to think, she didn't want him to rethink his offer. It was her best chance of freedom after all.

It wasn't like he was asking her to share her deepest fears and demons with him; he was only asking for trust. She could do that; she could try to do that at least, and she already trusted him with her body. Maybe with time she could trust him with her mind, as well? Not her heart, though; never her heart. Perhaps she could just pretend to trust him. She could tell him some insignificant things and act like they meant a great deal to her. She could always lie...except she hated lying. She couldn't lie. Not to him, anyways.

Despite her better judgment, despite that loud voice of a seventeen-year old girl in her head telling her not to be that stupid, despite the ache in her heart, a part of Elena wanted to trust him; and it scared the living shit out of her, because she had never, ever wanted to trust someone before. Not after Elijah, anyways - which wasn't even the same!

Knowing she was going to regret her decision later, she made her choice. "Should we seal the deal with a kiss?"

* * *

Elena kept pacing her bedroom, trying to decide if she had made the right choice, when a beeping voice drew her out of her thoughts, starling her. Her brows furrowed in confusion as she reached for her phone and sat down on the bed. The message she received was from a blocked number. Frowning, she opened it.

Number blocked: _3am, your garage. Come alone._

That was all it said, but it was enough. She knew who it was from, she knew what would happen if she didn't show, and she knew what would happen if she didn't come alone. Her stomach clenched almost painfully at the thought of seeing her uncle again. Her heart skipped a beat and her breathing sped as panic sat in, but she couldn't afford a panic attack right now, so she held her breath until her lungs ached, and forced her body back to normal.

It was a little past ten, which gave her about four and a half hours before she would walk out of the warm suite and into the cold night to meet with the dark figure from her nightmares, where the best case scenario of her making it out alive was nonexistent. Even if she, by some miracle, did manage to escape him, he would finish the job with Caroline, Klaus, Elijah, and… Damon.

She wouldn't risk their lives for hers. Instead, she would fight to her last breath to take that disgusting bastard with her, hoping he would accompany her into hell where they were both bound to suffer for eternity for the sins they had committed - or something along those lines… she wasn't really a religious person.

Remembering the promise she made to Elijah, to talk to him about everything after they got Caroline back, she picked up her phone again and sent him a brief message, telling him to meet her in the lobby in ten minutes. She certainly wasn't in the mood for that conversation, nor was she looking forward to it, but she owed him as much. Plus, it would give them both some closure.

Slipping her phone into her back pocket, she stalked towards Damon's room. His doors were closed, so she knocked lightly, waiting to hear his response. When she heard a muffled 'come in', she opened them. He was lying on his bed, still topless - yummy – with a book in his hands and an eyebrow arched.

"I'm going to meet Elijah for a drink downstairs," she informed him, frowning slightly because she wasn't sure why she felt the urge to tell him that. "Okay, well, bye," she stuttered awkwardly, closing the doors behind her.

Shaking her head, she poured herself a glass of bourbon and downed it quickly, tensing as the familiar liquid burned down her throat, before she left the suite and headed downstairs. As predicted, Elijah hadn't arrived yet, so she sat down at the bar, ordering herself another glass of their finest whiskey.

She was staring to question if inviting him was really the best choice – she didn't need this night to get any messier than it already was – but she didn't have the time to dwell on it as a familiar figure joined her.

"And to what do I owe this pleasure?" He teased, ordering himself a drink as he turned to face her.

"I promised you we would talk when we get Caroline back, so let's talk," she said coolly, not mentioning her uncle's message, because she knew he would do something stupid like try to stop her or even follow her. She saw him tense a little from the corner of her eyes and sighed.

"As you wish…" he said, downing his drink, making a small smile tug on her lips. "First of all," he began as he settled the tumbler back on the counter, "I can't tell you how sorry I am for the way I treated you at the end. You certainly didn't deserve it. I was in a bad place. My father was in prison, Caroline had just had an abortion, and your situation with your uncle was getting worse. I felt useless and disgusted with myself for not being able to protect you better, and I know that doesn't justify my actions, but it is the truth. You were my best friend, Elena, and I couldn't protect you, my brother had just lost his child, and our parents were gone in every way that counted – so, as you know, I started using. I know how much you tried to save me, I know it was killing you to see me like that, but I was too far gone at that point-" he went on, but she caught him off by spinning around to face him.

"Why are you telling me this? Do you think I don't remember? Because I do, Elijah. I remember everything vividly, and I don't need you to give me a play-by-play," she snapped, really wanting to keep the re-living things to a minimum.

He cringed. "What I was trying to say is that, even though you helped me through everything, I was selfish and childish, and I pushed you away. The things I said to you, the way I acted was unforgivable, but I'm still asking for your forgiveness. I know it's going to be hard, but I really am sorry. I know how much I meant to you, because you meant just as much to me, even though I had a crappy way of showing it. I betrayed you, I threw words at you that I knew would hurt you just so you would leave me alone and stop nagging me about drugs, because I was weak and drugs were my only escape,"

"I wanted to be that escape, Elijah! I would have helped you with everything!" She cried out, trying hard to not let the tears fall freely.

"I know, and I hate myself every day for not letting you help me, Elena," he tried, pain lacing his voice.

"I was with you through every break up. I trusted you with my darkest secrets. I loved you like a brother, and you betrayed me!" Fuck, it still hurt like hell, even after all this time.

"Yes, you were, but I was too blind to see that then," he said sadly. "The day you left town was the day I checked into rehab, but I knew it was too late." He shook his head, disgusted with himself. "I never forgave myself for the cruel things I told you about your mother, about you, and I can't express how sorry I am for being that last push that turned you into this cold, closed-off person. Because you used to be so bright, so lively; and I destroyed that with my anger and spiteful words."

"I forgave you a while ago, Elijah, but I can never forget. You may have been the last push I needed to realize what a cruel world we live in, but you are not the reason I am the way I am. Yes, your betrayal played a big part in building my walls so solid no one could break them – not even you – but there was more good in our relationship than bad, and all the bad could never erase the good, just as the good could never erase the bad." She smiled sadly. "I know I've been a bitch to you lately, but that wasn't because I was unable to forgive you; it was because I couldn't let you back in, couldn't let you hurt me again, but I think things are about to change," she let the words hang heavily in the air, and he frowned.

Elena felt guilty for giving him hope when she knew this might just be their last talk ever, but she needed to make amends, she needed to make sure he was alright; and suddenly, the urge to tell him everything flushed through her as she subconsciously played with her phone on the counter, making her bite on her lip painfully.

The words were at the tip of her tongue when she jumped off the stool and excused herself to the restroom, leaving her phone behind. Once in the restroom, she splashed cold water on her face, scolding herself for even thinking about it, and propped herself against the sink, breathing heavily. Luckily, she was alone, so she took the time to collect herself and put on the always-present mask. Exiting the restroom, she made her way back to Elijah, only to find him in deep thought with an extremely displeased expression on his face.

Assuming he was just thinking about the past, she glanced at the clock and noticed it was pretty late already, and decided it was time to go back upstairs. "How about we call it a night?" She asked, telling the bartender to put the drinks on her bill, seeing as it was Elijah paying anyways.

He nodded distractedly, standing up, and his eyes widened in surprise as she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. She didn't let go immediately, trying to forget about the world for a moment, but it was hopeless, and eventually, she pulled away. "See you later," she murmured guiltily, not waiting to hear his response as she almost ran upstairs. Oh, how she hated lying!

When she finally made it through the door, she leaned against it and slid down to the floor, her hand over her mouth, as the reality finally sunk in. She realized, though, that she wasn't scared anymore – because she knew it wouldn't be all for nothing, she was saving the people she cared about, the people who deserved saving. She was fighting a war, and she was already the winner.

Getting off the floor, she walked towards Damon's bedroom for the third time that night, with a mission in her mind. She silently opened the doors, knowing he was probably already asleep, and sure enough, his room was completely dark and his breathing even. Kicking off her shoes, she slid under the covers and scooted closer to him, letting his scent calm her down. She felt him stir awake, but he didn't say anything, only pulled her close into a tight embrace, his arms resting securely around her. She nestled her head in the crook of his neck, inhaling his addictive scent, finally letting the tears she'd been holding in since this morning fall freely.

* * *

It was an unusually cold night as Elena finally left the hotel at half past two in the morning. The icy wind cut her skin like sharp needles, and she hugged herself tighter to warm herself up a bit, even though catching a cold was the last thing on her mind right now.  
She had left Damon's bed after making sure he was in a deep sleep and wouldn't wake up anytime soon. Leaving his warm embrace was far more difficult that she cared to admit, but duty called. She had even left him a note, but it was more for her good than his – she couldn't leave without at least some kind of goodbye.

Honestly, she felt like the biggest drama queen around, making a big deal out of this situation, but no matter how much she tried to be indifferent about it, she knew her uncle was out for revenge. She knew he wouldn't let her get away with putting him behind bars – he was ruthless with her before that, and she shuddered slightly imagining what he'd do now. Still, as twisted as it was, she felt incredibly curious about the people who were helping him. She must have done something terrible to them to deserve a punishment like this.

Hailing herself a cab, she lifelessly got into the car and told the cabby where to take her in a monotone voice. From the corner of her eyes, she thought she spotted Elijah's Audi but shrugged, thinking it wasn't possible – there were thousands of that exact model in New York, after all, and there was no way he was still at the hotel.

The ride went by in a blur, and before she knew it, she was standing at the entrance of the overly-familiar building. With a loud sigh, she checked her phone and noticed she still had a good fifteen minutes left, so she decided to check the apartment out again, feeling nostalgic and all that. It was just as she and Damon had left it a week ago. Had it really been just a week? It felt more like a lifetime than seven short days – so much had happened in such a short time; it was unbelievable. Heading towards her room, she searched her closet for something warmer to wear, and quickly pulled on her father's old college hoodie. She fished a red, velvet bag out of one of the drawers, sliding it in her back pocket.

Brushing away the single tear that rolled down her cheek, she left the apartment with one last longing gaze.

It was time to pay the piper.

* * *

_**Feedback is love!**_


	11. Won't Go Home Without You

**PLAYING WITH FIRE**

_**Chapter 10: Won't Go Home Without You**_

_by W. A. Ravensdale_

* * *

Consider this chapter as a thank you for all your incredible feedback! Many of you have asked me to show a little how Damon feels, so I decided to write a whole chapter in his POV! Yes, I know, I'm kind of amazing! So, please, leave me a review and make my day!

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Diaries or any of its character.**_

But you know who's even more amazing? My beta_, **RunningInAir**!_

My twitter: _**WARavensdale**_

* * *

_"No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear."_

― C.S. Lewis

* * *

_**Damon**_

Damon stirred awake when he felt the bed dip under someone's weight. Just as his instincts were about to kick in and he was going to disable the intruder, the familiar, intoxicating perfume enveloped him, and he relaxed instantly.

He was confused, slightly suspicious, but most of all just plain shocked when she laid down and cuddled closer to him, her jean-covered legs intertwining with his bare ones. Her breath smelled faintly of alcohol, but he knew she wasn't drunk. Instinctively, he wrapped his hand around her back securely, pulling her closer. Her head settled in the crook of his neck as her cold hands came to rest on his chest.

He desperately wanted to ask her if she was alright, but he didn't want to scare her away. She was such a strong and independent woman, but in his arms, she felt so small and fragile, and all he wanted to do in that moment was to protect her from anyone and anything that would try to hurt her. His heart fluttered in his chest at the fact that she was actually there, and she was there on her own – she trusted him enough to let him hold her, which according to her, never happened.

The room was pitch dark, and the only sounds echoing through the empty space were their uneven breaths. He wondered if she was going to say anything at all when a warm drop hit his neck, and he realized, stunned, that she was crying.

He desperately wanted to say something, anything, but he didn't want to burst the bubble that seemed to be surrounding them, keeping them separated somehow from the rest of the world and even the reality of who they really were to each other. If he pushed too far, she would pull away again and possibly be left to deal with whatever was troubling her alone, because Damon knew that she would never even come close to talking to anyone else. He would rather try to comfort her with silence than send her running for cover behind her walls again.

Not knowing what else to do, he just held her, running his fingers over her lower back in soothing circles until the tears stopped flowing and her breathing evened out. He felt his eyes close soon after as the exhaustion seemed to seep out of her body and into his. He hadn't gotten much sleep last night. After he had come back from her room, feeling embarrassed, angry, and slightly confused, he had tried to fall asleep, but his mind hadn't let him have that reprieve. He had stayed awake for hours, his mind running wild with thoughts, questions, and conflicting emotions until, just after the sun peeked over the horizon, his churning mind had quieted enough to where he could sleep. And, of course, just after a few much-too-short hours, his phone had begun to ring and then all hell had broken loose. The whole day had been nothing but one chaotic moment after another, and now he just felt tired.

Cocking his head a little, Damon gently kissed Elena's temple and let her soft, even breathing lull him to a better sleep than he had found in weeks.

* * *

Damon woke with a start, sitting upright in bed, instantly on high alert, his hand already reaching for the drawer where he kept his gun. Something was wrong. He felt the bed with his hand, reaching out blindly in the dim lighting, but he only felt empty sheets, still warm from the heat of the body that had been slumbering there just minutes ago, and he frowned. At first, he thought she had maybe returned to her own bed to sleep, but there was that nagging voice in his head asking him why the hell she would just up and leave in the middle of the night like that – and aside from the simple answer of 'it's Elena,' he didn't know.

A buzzing voice drew him out of his thoughts, and he remembered what had awoken him in the first place. His frown deepened as he picked up his cell phone and an unknown number flashed on the screen. Sliding his finger across the screen to answer, he carefully brought it up to his ear, every nerve on edge.

"Hello?" He rasped, his voice still sleepy.

"Salvatore, it's Elijah Mikaelson. We have a problem." A British voice echoed through the phone.

"What do you mean?" Damon asked suspiciously, already not liking the way this was heading.

"It's about Elena. She's on her way to meet her uncle, and, Damon, if we don't stop her, she is not coming out of it alive." His words were like a bucket of freezing cold water dumped onto his head, and he was on his feet in seconds, now fully awake.

"What?! How do you know that?" The raven-haired man asked, already heading towards her bedroom to make sure Elijah wasn't just messing with him and she wasn't sleeping peacefully in her bed; but, of course, her bed was still made, and there was no sign of her whatsoever.

"She was acting shadier than usual, so I checked her phone when she went to the bathroom earlier," Elijah explained, his voice noticeably laced with worry.

The suite was dark as Damon ran through it, turning on every light, but she was nowhere to be found. "What? You knew this for hours and you only decided to tell me _now_?" He roared, heading towards his bedroom to dress up as quickly as possible.

"If I had told you earlier, you would have tried to stop her, and she'd have known we were onto her," the British man started, but Damon caught him off.

"And that is _bad,_ why?" He snapped, grabbing his leather jacket and exiting the suite. Checking her tracking device, he sighed. "She's heading towards her apartment," he informed the other man.

Elijah echoed the sound, sighing into the phone. "That would be _bad_, because she would find another way to meet him and then we would have no idea where or when she was meeting him," he sounded annoyed, like he was trying to explain why the sky is blue to a five-year old. "And I know, I saw her leave."

"Where are you?" Damon suddenly asked, running down the stairs. There was no time to wait for the elevator.

"I'm waiting for you in front of the hotel," Elijah answered, clearly already knowing Damon was on his way. "You could, you know, hurry up or something."

When Damon exited the hotel, he looked around, hanging up as he spotted Elijah's car and ran towards it. He called Elena's cell, praying to God she would answer, but the call went straight to voicemail. He jerked the car door open and threw himself inside, no time to choke out a swift 'hello' before Elijah stomped on the gas, speeding away towards Elena's place. "What did the text say?" Damon asked finally, checking her location again. She was already at the apartment, and he cursed himself for taking so long.

"_Three am, your garage. Come alone_," Elijah quoted as the car sped down the street.

Glancing at his watch, Damon spoke, "We still have fifteen minutes." His fingers were a flurry of movement across the screen of his phone.

"What are you doing?" Elijah asked, cocking his eyebrow.

"I'm getting us some back-up," the FBI agent explained distractedly, yelling as his phone was torn out of his hand. Quickly rolling down the window, Elijah threw his phone out, making Damon growl loudly.

"What did you do that for?" He yelped, glaring daggers at the other man. He was very swiftly coming to the conclusion that he really didn't like Elena's friend.

"If John even suspects that something is not okay, he is going to shoot her on sight and bolt, and then we will have a dead Elena and no way of catching that bloody bastard. Having a bunch of FBI agents there would do us more harm than good," Elijah snapped back, meeting his gaze with just as much intensity.

"I'm an FBI agent, and you still called me," Damon challenged. He wasn't sure why, but he saw competition in the British lawyer, and he was determined to win.

Elijah just shrugged and said nothing.

Looking away, Damon let his words settle in his mind. Elena could die tonight if they weren't in time. Elena would be gone. No more Elena. That thought bothered him much more than the death of a criminal should bother an FBI agent, but he had accepted the fact that he cared about her greatly some time ago, even if he hadn't been so keen on admitting it to himself.

Elena was a sociopath. She took great pleasure in enraging people. She was selfish, smart, incredibly cunning, alluring, and seductive. She was fascinated by beauty and corruption – there was a darkness looming inside of her that kept her from connecting to people. Her thoughts were not always acceptable, and her values were often morally wrong. The way people thought and acted intrigued her. She was observant, and she absolutely adored playing people like puppets.

And Damon knew all of that. He had known it from the beginning. He knew she was badly damaged, and he utterly hated that. He hated the fact that he was attracted to her, to someone whom he most certainly shouldn't be – it went against everything he believed in, and yet he somehow found himself unable to stay away. He hated that she made him feel something no one had before. He hated himself for giving in last night. He hated himself for not figuring out something was wrong when she came to him and cried on his shoulder. Mostly, though, he just hated himself for not being able to help her overcome her demons.

As he had said to Elena, he was open to the possibility of love, because no matter what, he still believed love was not something to run away from, even though he had been burned so many times before; and he loathed the idea that Elena may just be the person he could potentially fall in love with, but he knew from the minute she had, rather bluntly, told him she was getting out of prison with or without his assistance that she would be his undoing.

Because, if he was being completely honest with himself, Damon knew they would either mend each other's wounds or destroy one another completely…and the odds were definitely not in their favor.

And he knew that she knew it as well, that that was one of the reasons why she hid from him, why she kept pushing him away. She was scared and so broken that she couldn't, and wouldn't, accept his help.

The truth was that he was just as scared as Elena – he was scared of letting himself feel anything more than just attraction to her, because he knew that if he let himself love her, she wouldn't be able to handle it. She didn't know how to. He knew that once he opened up to love, he'd have to open up to hurt as well. So, he pushed those feelings away every time they tried to re-surface.

"We're here," a voice suddenly drew him out of his thoughts, and he jumped, startled. Looking around in confusion, he realized where they were, and reality settled in again, making him groan silently. He glanced at his watch, and a displeased frown painted his forehead – it was a minute to three.

Neither of them had the access card for the garage, and there was no way they could get it fast enough so early in the morning, so they had to settle for running. It took them exactly two minutes to run into the building, find the stairs, and throw the garage door open.

But those two minutes turned out to be two too late. A black Mercedes sped past them, the tires squealing as it disappeared around the corner. Both men tried to catch up, each pulling out their own gun and aiming for the car, but the target was moving too fast.

"No!" Damon screamed desperately, kicking one of the parked cars with so much force the alarm went off and pain shot up his leg.

His head was spinning as he helplessly stared at the spot he had last seen the black Mercedes. What was he supposed to do now? Elijah was right, involving the FBI was out of the question, but how else was he supposed to track Elena since he didn't have his phone anymore? Thanks to Elijah…

"You fucking idiot! If you would have just let me keep my phone, we would still be able to track her! Now we have to go back to the hotel, or worse, straight to the Bureau!" He snapped at Elijah, running his fingers through his already messy hair before shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.

He froze. There was a bent envelope brushing against his fingers, and he shuddered. His first thought was that Elena's uncle was now sending him notes, but he dismissed the idea as soon as he pulled out the envelope. The writing was immediately recognizable: it was Elena's.

"My fault? You bloody bastard, if you hadn't taken so long to-" Elijah started to defend himself, but his words trailed off, a frown spreading across his mouth instead when he saw Damon's expression and the envelope in his hand. "What's that?" He asked, suspiciously.

Ignoring him, Damon turned around and tore the envelope open. Unfolding the paper, he scowled at the three simple words, and his heart clenched in his chest.

_Be good, Salvatore._

There was no signature, but he knew the note was her way of saying goodbye. She must have snuck it into his pocket when he was asleep. The writing was slightly smeared, and he could just imagine her scrawling the words in a hurry, her left hand brushing across the fresh ink as she wrote. He gripped the paper in his palm, crunching it, trying to make the pain and guilt go away. He should have known something was wrong, he should have woken up when she left – he should have protected her.

"At least I got a hug goodbye," came an arrogant voice from behind him, and he spun around, coming face to face with a smug-looking Elijah, and he couldn't help but smirk himself.

"Yeah, and after that, she crawled in _my_ bed, seeking comfort with _me_," he grinned, satisfied when Elijah's smile fell, though his own smile didn't reach his eyes.

Damon couldn't figure the other man out – Elijah was even better at not showing emotions than Elena was, which was saying something. He wondered if the British man was in love with her, and a strong feeling of jealousy hit him. Shaking his head, he pushed those thoughts away – they didn't have time for a petty pissing contest, they needed to find Elena. Pronto.

"You won't get her to trust you, Salvatore. She's too broken," Elijah hissed quietly.

"Yeah? And whose fault is that, huh?" Damon snarled back. He had had enough of the lawyer's attitude. Elijah paled slightly and looked away. _Good_, Damon thought, _you should feel guilty. _He didn't actually know what had happened between the two of them; he just knew Elijah had hurt her pretty badly almost a decade ago. Despite how much Damon wanted Elijah to suffer for the pain he had caused the woman he was swiftly coming to love, _she_ was his first priority. Retribution would have to wait.

Sighing, Damon rubbed the back of his neck. "Let's stop this right now before it gets out of hand. We can fight when this is over," he let out tiredly, walking back towards the way they had come.

"Where are you going?" Elijah called after him, following once he realized he wasn't going to be getting a verbal response out of him.

They were almost at the car again when Damon spoke up, "I have my tablet back at the hotel. It's connected with Elena's anklet, and we can track her," he explained, opening the passenger door. "If that doesn't work, then we'll _have_ to involve the Agency, whether we want to or not."

Elijah nodded, rounding the car and sliding in as well. The ride back towards the hotel was filled with uncomfortable tension. It was more than obvious that the two men really didn't like each other, but they both knew they had to work together – it was the best chance of finding Elena. So, for Elena's sake, they swallowed their pride and pulled their heads out of their asses.

They agreed that Elijah would wait in the car and keep the engine running while Damon went up to find his tablet. He was back in no time, his face simultaneously hopeful and worried. "She's crossing the Brooklyn Bridge right now," he informed the other man as he sank down on the leather. They were taking her out of the twenty-mile radius – the anklet would soon go off, alerting the FBI.

Nodding, Elijah sped off in that direction. If there was one thing that Damon was certain of, it was that Elijah really did care about Elena. Maybe he loved her, maybe he didn't, but he wouldn't let her die, and that was all that mattered to Damon in that moment. Besides, he didn't have the right to be jealous – Elena wasn't his.

"You can't fix her," Elijah suddenly spoke, startling Damon slightly

"What?" He arched his eyebrow in confusion, turning to face him.

"Elena - you can't fix her. She won't let you," the lawyer elaborated, his gaze locked on the road in front of him.

Damon scowled, shaking his head in frustration. "I don't see how that's any of your business," he murmured. He was really getting tired of the bullshit.

"I'm trying to help you, you piece of shit. You think you can just pat her shoulder once and she's going to spill her darkest secrets to you, but you're wrong. You don't know her like I do," Elijah stressed, taking a sharp turn to the left.

"But you don't know her either, do you? You don't really know her, not anymore. She's not the same girl, Elijah!" This was really starting to piss the raven-haired man off.

Elijah ignored him. "When she pulls away, you have to push her harder, you have to make her either angry enough or hurt enough for her to explode – you have to make her break down. Only then will you find out who Elena Gilbert really is, but don't say I didn't warn you; she may not be who you are hoping she will be…" he trailed off as the bridge came into the view.

Damon wanted to say something back, to tell him he was wrong, to tell him she just needed to know she was loved, but he stopped himself before the words could leave his mouth. Instead, he checked the signal from her anklet again. She had stopped moving.

Cursing under his breath, he momentarily forgot about their discussion and focused on giving Elijah the right directions. His nerves were bursting, his heart was pounding, and his breathing was quickening as they moved closer and closer to her location.

They heard sirens in the background, but didn't really think much of it until the sound continued to grow louder and louder with each passing moment. Damon turned around just in time to see two fire trucks passing them, going in the same direction as they were.

And then they saw it. The building, the warehouse where Elena's signal was coming from, was being devoured by flames. Before they could park the car, the walls gave up, and the building collapsed, leaving nothing but a pile of ashes behind.

The signal went dead.

* * *

For the past two hours, ever since the firemen had doused the flames and begun a thorough search of the building, Damon had been impatiently waiting in his office, his leg bouncing up and down as he stared lifelessly at the clock. Maybe he could turn the time back if he glared at it long enough.

They had found a the body of a young woman among the remains… with a tracking device clasped around her left ankle. Damon refused to believe it was her until the results came back - he couldn't.

The thought of losing her shook him straight to his very core, making his heart ache desperately. He cared too much for her. She had managed to crawl under his skin, and no matter what he did, he couldn't shake her. She couldn't just be gone now. It didn't work that way. Except that it did, all too often, and he knew it.

A knock on his door drew him out of his thoughts, and his eyes skipped to the intruder, his heart missing a beat when they landed on Alaric. Damon abruptly stood up.

"Damon, we have some news," the elder man said softly, stepping into his office and shutting the door behind him. His usually warm smile was now smaller, faker, and he looked at least ten years older. Damon's heart sank.

"No," he shook his head in disbelief. "Don't say it, Ric. Don't you dare." His voice was almost threatening, yet it was laced with too much pain. If no one actually said the words, then it wasn't true. It couldn't be.

Alaric put the folder he was holding gently down on the table and approached Damon, resting his hand on his shoulder. Their gazes met, and all Damon could see in his warm eyes was sympathy and regret, maybe even a bit of grief.

"Don't," he pleaded, shaking his head. This wasn't happening; it wasn't supposed to end like this!

"Damon, I need you to listen to me," Alaric pressed. "The teeth from the body matched Gilbert's. Elena is dead, Damon," he spoke softly, gripping his shoulder gently.

Dead silence enveloped them as the words hung heavily in the air. Closing his eyes, Damon fought back the tears that were threatening to spill, and pressed his lips in a thin line. He balled his fists so hard against his sides that his knuckles turned white and his nails sank into his skin, but he didn't care.

"I'm going home," he finally spoke after a few minutes, his voice alarmingly calm as he opened his eyes again. They were so cold and distant that Alaric visibly tensed.

As the words left his mouth, he painfully realized that he had started calling the hotel home. After six fucking days! He hated it, he hated himself, and he hated her. He hated her for making him care and then leaving like that.

"Damon…" Alaric tried, "if you need to talk, I'm here." Damon knew his friend was being sincere, but that was not what he needed right now. What he needed was a few bottles of bourbon and to be left the fuck alone.

"Whatever," he replied coldly, stepping away from his boss.

He felt like someone had pulled his heart out of his chest and stomped on it, and he snorted bitterly, remembering that only a few hours ago Elena had told him those exact words. But he couldn't think of her right now, not here, not yet. Gritting his teeth together, he grabbed his leather jacket and all but ran out of the office, not caring about his name being called repeatedly.

He ignored the world around him, hailing himself a cab. It was morning already, and he couldn't grasp the fact that only a few hours ago he had held her while she cried, and now she was gone. He knew what he was doing, he was deflecting his pain; he was in denial. He knew what Alaric had told him, but the words haven't completely sunk in yet. He understood what was happening, what this meant, but his brain couldn't process it. Because she simply couldn't be dead. She was waiting for him back at the apartment, he was sure of it.

The drive felt hours long even though it couldn't have lasted more than a good fifteen minutes. Throwing the cabby some cash, he ran upstairs, not caring if he looked like a madman doing so. He had to see her. Because she couldn't be dead. She was waiting for him.

Throwing the door open, he stumbled inside. "Elena!" He called, heading for her bedroom. She wasn't there.

"Elena!" He tried again, this time panicking slightly, darting from room to room, his eyes flying around the empty place in desperate need to find her somewhere. "Elena!" At last, his voice broke in a painful sob as he came back to the door with an unbearable realization: Elena wasn't there, because she was dead. She wasn't waiting for him.

He gasped, falling to his knees and pressing his hands against his chest as the grief ripped through him. His heart physically hurt, his lungs burned, and his muscles were so tense he felt like a statue. His head spun as gut-wrenching sobs filled the room, and he finally broke down.

Breathing heavily like he had just run a marathon, he eventually managed to get up on his shaky legs and clench his hand into a fist, swinging it at the wall. Pain shot through him, and his knuckles bleed, but he didn't care. He swung again and again and again, until he couldn't feel the pain in his hand anymore, until he just felt numb, and he sunk back down to the floor.

Closing his eyes, he tried to remember every detail of her vividly: her teasing smile, her flirtatious doe eyes, her round nose, her healthy locks, her sinfully long legs…but it just hurt more, imagining her.

What he had kept suppressing for days finally rushed to the surface, and he groaned loudly, hitting his head back against the wall. If he couldn't admit it to himself when she was alive, why do it now? To hurt himself even more? To dig the hole in his heart so deep no one could ever fill it again? Yet, the heart wanted what the heart wanted, and it seemed like it was finally ready to admit the truth. That he was in love with her.

That he loved her. He unwillingly gave her his heart, and now she was gone. She was gone, and she had taken her heart to the grave right along with her.

Being cheated on? He could deal with that. Being betrayed? He could deal with that. But losing his heart? That was something he could never get back.

Hours later, he found himself sprawled across the couch with a half empty bottle of bourbon in one of his hands and his phone in the other. He kept calling her phone, just to hear her voice, even if all he ever got was her voicemail.

He drank, he sobbed, he yelled, he broke things, he drank some more, and he shouted until his lungs and throat burned, until his knuckles stopped bleeding, until he just felt empty, numb, lifeless.

Eventually, he passed out on the couch and the bottle slipped out of his grasp, shattering on the floor. He stirred, mumbled her name in his sleep and turned around. Day turned into night as the sun fell behind the horizon, and his phone finally beeped, drawing him out of his drunken slumber.

He groaned, wanting nothing more than to throw the phone out of the window and fall asleep again. She was there. In his dreams, she was still there; but she wasn't the same. She was sadder, unmoving. She just smiled sadly, but didn't say anything. But at least she was still _there_.

His phone beeped again, and he tried to reach it from the coffee table, but it was too far and he lost his balance, falling on the floor with a loud thump.

The phone beeped again. He was tempted to crush it, throw it against the wall, anything to make it stop, but that nagging voice in his head told him not to. So, he didn't. Instead, he opened the messages. They were all the same, all from a blocked number.

Number blocked: _Ten minutes, warehouse._

At that, he actually started laughing out loud. He knew it was John; he had been the one to send the similar message to Elena. From what he had learned from Elena, he knew John was smart. He wouldn't send an FBI agent a cryptic message like that and actually believe he would show up alone, and that was the only reason why Damon would do just that. He nodded to himself, trying to get off the floor and head towards the door, swaying slightly as he went.

He took a cab again, not wanting to risk his beautiful Camaro in his state. Somehow, he just knew he was supposed to go to the warehouse where Elena caught those drug-dealers, and not the one where she burned to death. Another sob escaped him silently as he leaned against the window. He dozed off in the car for a while and woke up just as they came to a stop. Hiccupping, he handed the driver the money and got out, stumbling slightly as he stepped directly into a puddle.

"Fuck," he cursed, before making his way closer to the big, empty warehouse.

Entering it, he cringed when the doors made a terrible noise as he closed them. "Oh, Johnny boy! Come out, come out, wherever you are!" He yelled, his rasped voice echoing through the empty space.

"I'm here, John. So what now, huh?!" He screamed louder, angrier. "Are you going to kill me, too?" A cold laugh escaped him as he walked farther into the building.

There was still no response, and for a second, he thought he was at the wrong place, but then he heard light footsteps behind him, making him spin around. His legs gave out, and he sunk down onto his knees at the sight in front of him.

He was still dreaming, he must have been, because this wasn't possible, it wasn't real.

"Hey, handsome," but her voice was, and so were the teasing smile and the sparkling eyes.

* * *

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